


Halloween 2019

by Honestmouse



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: I'm gonna add character tags as I go, M/M, NO character deaths, Other, There's probbaly gonna be blood, ended up being a lot of hurt/comfort, good luck figuring out which is which until you read it, it makes an appearance, it's also sad a lot, some is gonna be scary, some of it's gonna be slice of life, the skeleton onesie, which I should have expected, you know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-11-01 08:03:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 89,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20811788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honestmouse/pseuds/Honestmouse
Summary: Everyone loves Halloween right?And if you don't, well maybe just autumn in general is more your thing?Either way, check in every day for a new cute/spooky one shot this October!Most of it's gonna be My Chem centered but Fall Out Boy makes an appearance too.--I've got a few prompts and things lined up to guide me but if there's something you wanna see, or a paring or cute idea, please feel free to suggest it! My comments are always open and you can find me on tumblr as honestmouse20 --*This will be updated every day of October around midnight!*





	1. Just setting the stage

So, as you can see, this isn't Chapter 1. Not really anyway.  
I just wanted to take the opportunity to sort of explain what I'm doing and why for anyone who might be curious.  
Back in August my sister suggested I make a collection of spooky stories centered around our favorite band members. Naturally, I sat down and combed Pinterest and Tumblr for any takers. My current list is about 25 or 26 prompts/sentence starters and I am honestly extremely excited to share them.

This is a project I've been working on for a while and I have about 8 one-shots already written and waiting on being posted. Like I mentioned in the summary, I'm gonna update once a day every day of October. Some of the chapters in this will be short, others rather long. I have one right now that's so long I'm probably gonna split it into three or more updates! It's one of my favorites so far, though it probably won't be posted until week two as it's not quite finished yet.

Also, I don't have any plans for this to be particularly bloody or anything but if inspiration strikes, I will be putting chapter specific warnings before each new chapter!

So, yeah, this was just a 'why the heck am I doing a Halloween prompt thing when it's been proven over and over again to never be finished'. I've been reading on archive a while, I see all the abandoned challenges like this one. I have nothing against those authors, sometimes writing every day, or on a set schedule, isn't as important as other things. But If you know me, I normally end up apologizing for posting things Early rather than late. That's why I chose to make this a challenge for myself. No one's forcing me, other than my sister who told me she'd pick my Halloween costume for me if I miss an update. Coming from a 13 year-old kid, that's terrifying. XD

Expect this to actually be finished, if I don't finish it I've probably fallen down the bottomless pit of year three college life.

Final note from me tonight: send me prompts? Plz?  
But seriously, if there's a spooky or Halloween idea you have that you want to see, just ask! I will say that I will not accept prompts that are asking for incest or smut but other than that, the gates are pretty much open. That's gonna come back to bite me isn't it? For real though, don't be shy dudes. I love interacting with you all, even though I'm an awkward mess and I'm just gonna apologize in advance for that. ***YOU can suggest prompts by either leaving a comment on this fic or by messaging me on my tumblr honestmouse20 *** 

Alright, I will see you all in a little less than two days when I post The Real chapter 1. Hint: it's called "Cemetery Drive"  
<3


	2. Cemetery Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This night, walk the dead in a solitary style/ and crash the cemetery gates"  
~Cemetery Drive by My Chem which was, obviously, the inspiration for this chapter~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
Happy first day of October dudes!!  
Slight TRIGGER WARNING for this one:  
there's talk of dead people, nothing graphic or anything  
and a good bit of it is spent in a cemetery
> 
> Other than that, this one is pretty straight forward.  
Hope you all enjoy!  
*Chapter Title from Cemetery Drive by My Chemical Romance*

Gerard leaves work early that day.  
He puts it off as a migraine to his boss, who just shrugs and tells him to be on time tomorrow. The only person who seems even mildly concerned is the older lady two cubicles down. Gerard can never actually remember her name but she always smiles at him and has seasonal M&M’s sitting on the corner of her desk. She’s the definition of ‘that one old lady in the office’ but Gerard sees her as a friend, someone he’s gone to on quite a few occasions when he’s needed help.  
Plus, she’s one of the few people who didn’t immediately lose interest in him or begin treating him differently after he brought his husband to a work dinner. God forbid there’s a gay guy in their office or something.  
But he’s not as bothered by that as he used to be.  
The older lady though, she’s one of the few more accepting people he works with. She’s not treated him any differently and has even covered for him when he has to check his phone every hour when Frank gets sick. Which is unfortunately rather often.  
Today though, he doesn’t have time for one of their long conversations, not that he doesn’t enjoy those talks endlessly. They talk almost every day, about random things mostly, but Gerard somehow has never caught her name. As he packs the final few things into his bag, she does kindly ask him if he’s okay in that soft old lady voice that reminds him so much of his grandma. If it were anyone else in this office, he’d probably shrug them off in a heart beat. This old lady though, he feels like she deserves an explanation. He feels connected to her in a way.  
They both stand out in the sea of straight guys in their mid-thirties wearing designer suits that makes up their office.  
“I’m fine,” he explains, shoving a stack of papers into his bag carelessly. “Just a migraine.”  
From the corner of his eye, Gerard watches her nod wisely, as if she can see right through his lie. She then tells him to feel better soon.  
Okay, so it’s not exactly a lie. He does have migraines several times a month that are intense enough for him to have to go home and suffer through them rather than behind his desk. There’s no throbbing today but he’s certain that if he stays until quitting time that there will be.  
And just like that, Gerard’s walking out the front door and out onto the sidewalk. It’s not quite lunch time yet but the traffic is still terrible. Cars are bumper to bumper and Gerard takes the time to be thankful that he walks to work. It’s a good thing most of the time actually, means that he can get actual fresh air and maybe even a bit of exercise. If he had it his way, he’d be a hermit but Frank cares about him. So he’s inclined to not look like that old dude in a cave from that one episode of Spongebob. Even though he sorta wants to.  
Working an office job isn’t as cracked up as people make it out to be. He’s proof of that.  
And even the bitter October air is a welcome comfort in comparison to the stuffy interior of his office. Gerard’s never really been claustrophobic but sitting in that tiny desk for eight hours a day really does take its toll.  
As he walks, he notices how the sun is completely blocked by the heavy clouds overhead, further engraving the chill of the fast approaching winter. If they lived further away from the city, Gerard’s certain that the leaves would already be changing colors.  
That’s one thing he truly misses from home, aside from his baby brother of course. It’s watching the leaves as they turn into such vibrant shades of red and orange along with the changing of the seasons. Gerard has always loved the fall months more than the summer ones and he longs to be able to hear the crunch of leaves under his feet. And while there are crunching sounds as he steps, most of it is because of food wrappers and other things that he probably should burn his shoes just for stepping in.  
All the same, Gerard makes it home reasonably quickly, after briefly stopping into his favorite coffee shop on his way home to grab a quick lunch. He knows Frank has class until about 2pm so he’s got the time to kill anyway.  
Their apartment is nothing special, just another set of square windows halfway up the grey, brick building. Every building on this street seems to be apartments and Gerard can’t help but think that they all look too much the same. The same windows, the same stains of rust along the gutters. And his and Frank’s apartment is just like all the others. It’s tiny, only one bedroom and a microscopic kitchen with an equally small living room, but it’s home and Gerard wouldn’t trade living in it with Frank for anything. The rent is outrageous though, but his job coupled with his husband’s part time one is enough for them to get by.  
Finally upstairs and on his floor, after dealing with chatty receptionists and annoying children who seem to spawn in the lobby downstairs, Gerard puts his key in the door and pushes it with his foot to open it.  
Instantly his senses are hit with the smell of one of Frank’s favorite wall plug-ins, one that's ridiculously named ‘’pumpkin spice dreams”. But, honestly, it’s one of Gerard’s favorite things to come home to, aside from his husband himself, and he finds himself smiling as he places his things on the floor beside the door. The scent is distinctly home and reminds him so much of his husband that it makes a soft feeling flutter up in his chest.  
Anxiety and stress has faded to the background for now, just the simple peace of returning home to reminders of Frank enough to help him calm down. The beginnings of his migraine have faded.Frank’s pumpkin smelly-thing and the promise of coffee is also helping greatly in melting the stress from his bones.  
Unbuttoning his dark blue jacket that’s a few sizes too big on him and draping it lazily across the back of their couch, Gerard goes in search of the TV remote. Thirty minutes later he’s plopped down on the couch still in his work clothes, sketchbook balanced in his lap with a mug of coffee in his free hand. The TV is mostly just for background noise as he gets solely lost in the shades of ink on the slightly textured paper.  
The front door opening has him looking up suddenly and he watches his husband shuffle inside. Frank must not notice he’s home yet because he’s got his back to the couch as he slings his backpack down beside the door. Gerard watches fondly as he realizes that his things are by the door too. Frank makes a downright adorable ‘huh?’ as he turns around to face the couch.  
“Hey Frankie,” Gerard calls to him, taking a sip from the mug in his hand as Frank’s face lights up in recognition at the sound of his voice.  
Setting the sketchbook down on the coffee table, Gerard wastes no time scooting over enough for his husband to have room to sit as well. And Frank does come over, albeit slowly. He sits down rather heavily and instantly curls up into Gerard’s side, a soft sigh of content escaping his lips.  
Gerard’s fingers find Frank’s hair on instinct as he gently begins tugging at the numerous tangles already in the long strands. He is able to feel the chill still clinging to Frank’s clothes, to his skin where it touches against his own. Wrapping an arm around the small body pressed close to his, he does his best to try and chase the remnants of the frigid air away. The last thing they need is him getting sick again. Not so soon to midterms anyway.  
“I hate my life,” Frank mutters bitterly into Gerard’s shoulder.  
Fighting off a laugh at the overly dramatic statement, Gerard just hums and waits for Frank to continue.  
“I was late for my Chem class at 10,” he continues, sitting up and moving enough to where he can talk without being muffled by Gerard’s clothes. “I fell asleep in the coffee shop this morning after my 8am and I barely made it before Chem was over. The professor was so mad Gee; he made me stand in front of the class and explain why I was so late before I could go and sit down.”  
“I thought college professors didn’t do that kinda shit? It’s too high school of them,” Gerard tries to assure him, watching the way Frank’s face scrunches up in frustration and the embarrassment coloring his cheeks from simply talking about it.  
“Me fuckin’ too. But this bitch hates me and I dunno why.”  
Frank doesn’t say anything else but he does return back to his little cocoon against Gerard’s side. He looks so small, all curled against Gerard like this and his heart hurts with the thought of Frank having such a bad day.  
They’ve bitched about this particular professor many times but no matter what Frank does, he seems to have something against him.  
“Hey Gee?” Frank asks, voice muffled by the fabric of Gerard’s clothes that his face is currently pressed into.  
He hums, continuing to play with Frank's hair as he waits for him to continue.  
“What’re you doin’ home early?”  
Oh right.  
Looking down at his watch, Gerard realizes that it’s only shortly after 3 and that he’s normally at work for at least another 2 and a half hours.  
So he tells Frank about how he was so tired from staring at the same three damn papers all morning so he faked a migraine to leave early.  
Instead of getting mad, Frank just laughs a little and steals a sip of Gerard’s coffee as reparation.  
“Smart plan. Until you actually have a migraine and you’ve already used up all your days.”  
“Shut up with your- your sound logic,” Gerard teases back halfheartedly, even as he laughs at the truth behind Frank’s statement.  
Frank just laughs with him, snuggling up again as Gerard pulls the sketchpad back up and starts drawing again.  
It’s nothing really fancy, just some ideas for his costume this year. Ray and some other friends of his from college are doing a small party on Halloween and he’s taken up the task of designing costumes for him and Frank. Naturally, they’re gonna be gory as he can get them and probably matching or themed if he can. He’s been working on these ideas for a while but he’s still not quite sure what they are gonna be. Maybe zombies or something?  
Or ghosts?  
Or is that too predictable, too overdone?  
“Oh!,” Frank says suddenly, “so, since you’re home early you can get your surprise early too!”  
Looking at him warily, because Gerard knows from experience how out of hand Frank’s surprises can be, he idly plays with the warm wedding band on his hand and waits on him to continue.  
“I wanted to have a date night tonight! I’ve been planning something really freaking rad and since you’re home we can get a head start?”  
It’s worded like a question and Gerard can hear the uncertainty in Frank’s voice. Like he’d ever be able to resist a date night, not even one planned by Frank. Gerard loves him to death but sometimes his husband can be a bit… over the top.  
But even the ‘bad’ dates sit as fond memories in Gerard’s mind, as reminders of why he loves this small chaotic man as much as he does.  
“Sure, I can’t wait, Frankie. Lemme go change into something less stuffy okay?”  
He’s wearing his work clothes still and he’d rather not go out in them any more than he has to. Besides, Frank’s more practically dressed in a flannel, hoodie, and a bomber jacket- that may or may not be Gerard’s that Frank had ‘borrowed’- and jeans. So, if Gerard went in his dress pants and shirt, he’d stick out like a sore thumb.  
“Kay,” Frank agrees, wearing a soft smile and instantly claiming Gerard’s spot on the couch as soon as he gets up to steal the warmth he left behind.  
An old t-shit and hoodie coupled with a pair of black jeans and Gerard is ready to go. He doesn’t even glance into the small mirror hanging on their door to fix his hair, even though he knows it’s probably a disaster.  
When he goes back into the living room, Frank zips up his book bag quickly before turning towards Gerard. Suspicious now, he notices that all of Frank’s books are dumped onto the coffee table.  
Shooting him a questioning look, Gerard just receives a smug shrug in response.  
“If you’re gonna murder me in the woods or something can you make sure none of the blood gets on my hoodie? I just washed it.”  
“I can’t make any promises,” Frank deadpans back before shouldering his bag and grabbing his keys. “Ready?”  
And just like that, Gerard is back in the freezing city air.  
It’s not miserable though, not with Frank’s tiny hand in his as he leads them down the sidewalk. They pass plenty of people, apparently no one deterred by the bitter chill to the air. Some people give them looks, judgemental eyes flickering down to his hand connected in Frank’s but Gerard could care less. This kinda thing used to bother him but really, the gentle weight of the wedding band on his finger and the love of his life pressed up next to him makes it worth any odd looks they may get.  
“Where are we going?” Gerard asks at last as they pass another unfamiliar street sign.  
They’ve been walking for the better part of an hour, steadily getting further and further away from the city. Small shops and coffee houses have faded into modestly sized houses as they reach the edges of the suburbs. They reach the two story, white picket fence houses shortly after he asks this.  
Frank doesn’t answer but Gerard doesn’t mind too much. Besides, some of the houses have larger trees in their yards, already turning into fiery reds and soft oranges to accompany the chill to the air. It’s honestly, genuinely, really pretty and something Gerard wishes that he had his camera with him to take pictures of.  
“Getting close,” Frank tells him as they turn down a seemingly random street.  
It's starting to get dark now, the beginnings of the sunset already streaking across the cloudy sky above them. Gerard’s getting cold now and so he’s certain that Frank is too. He always does seem to get cold really easily and Gerard worries momentarily about Frank getting sick.  
But that thought is pushed away as they stop dead in the middle of the sidewalk. Instantly, Gerard’s attention is pulled by the looming metal gates on the right side of the walkway. The old iron is painted black and it twists towards the top in intricate spirals that hold menacing spikes on the top.  
Just beyond the gates Gerard can see a well-kept field, the grass dead and brown because of the cold. It’s littered with headstones, so many that he can’t begin to count them all as he notices they seem to roll along the soft hills just inside.  
Some, the ones closer to the gates, appear more recent, with polished stone and clear letters engraved into it. The ones just a few rows back are obviously older, some even appearing broken as Gerard looks a little longer.  
“Here?” he asks because why would Frank chose this place for a date?  
“If that’s okay?”  
And Gerard can hear the uncertainty again, the hesitation and softness to Frank’s voice. It’s not conventional as far as dates go but honestly, they’ve done weirder so really, why the hell not?  
“Yeah, sorry,” he says, quick to apologize. “Was just shocked at first.”  
“That’s the point. It’s supposed to be weird!”  
The enthusiasm is back and Gerard lets Frank drag him inside. It’s a bit odd that the gates weren’t locked but he doesn’t question it.  
He’s led down the main path, his sneakers making only the slightest sound against the old concrete beneath his feet. Gerard is pleased to find that there’s more trees here. Though, most have already lost their leaves, leaving just the bare skeletons of empty branches and rough bark.  
The air is silent save for the sound of their shoes and the whistle of the wind as it passes gently through the trees. Gerard takes a deep breath, letting the crisp air fill his lungs, and holds it for a moment.  
He loves living in the city but it’s things like this that he only realizes he misses when he finds himself doing something like this.  
He releases the breath, watching as the cold air makes it visible for just a moment before it fades into the shadows surrounding them.  
Frank pulls a flashlight from somewhere, using it so they don't stray from the path.  
And this should be creepy. He should probably be freaked out by the hundreds of decaying bodies right beneath his feet.  
But he’s not.  
They can’t hurt him and probably wouldn't want to hurt him anyway. He and Frank aren’t causing trouble or anything, just going on a romantic date in the middle of a graveyard.  
Gerard laughs a little to himself, earning a knowing sort of smile from Frank as he turns around.  
His life is weird but he wouldn’t trade this for anything.  
“Here we are!” Frank says at last, leading Gerard over to a seemingly random cluster of gravestones.  
Looking around as Frank pulls his bag off his shoulder and busily begins pulling random things out, Gerard notices that they’re in the very back of the cemetery. The back gate is only a few feet away, nothing but thick, dark forest lying beyond the black and twisting metal. With the sun now completely set and nothing but shadows surrounding them, Gerard gladly accepts the extra flashlight that Frank hands him.  
Letting the beam pass over a few of the headstones closest to them, Gerard’s barely able to read the inscriptions carved there. Most here are weathered so badly that it’s impossible to tell what they used to say or who’s body it is slowly decaying only a few feet beneath them. More than half of the closest headstones are nothing but cracked, crumbling pieces of stone.  
It’s rather sad, Gerad thinks, being forgotten like that.  
“Okay, it’s ready.”  
Frank’s voice is right beside him, his hand sliding into Gerard’s effortlessly. Recovering from being startled by the suddenness of Frank’s voice, Gerard lets himself be lead over by the cold hand that’s dragging him. He wonders briefly where Frank’s gloves are and why he didn’t bring him with him.  
But soon all thoughts are pushed to the back of his mind as he takes in what Frank has set up for them.  
There’s a literal nest of blankets resting snugly against a nearby tree, with a few candles scattered about the immediate area. The weak light that they provide somehow adds to the atmosphere Frank was going for and Gerard feels his knees threaten to go out beneath him.  
He can even spot a large bag of his favorite flavor of chips and a thermos sitting off to the side, making his stomach grumble at the idea of a snack.  
“I didn’t know what kinda food was normal for graveyard dates so I just improvised. But I’ve got coffee and it’s still warm and I know that this is weird and you can totally say no and we’ll go right home and-”  
Gerard stops his rambling by capturing Frank’s lips against his own. Frank melts instantly against him, wrapping his arms around Gerard’s waist and kissing back eagerly. When they pull apart they’re both smiling and he gets a little lost in the candle light flickering in Frank’s eyes. The flashlights have been forgotten… somewhere. But it doesn’t matter.  
He can see everything he needs to right now.  
“So you like it?” Frank asks him breathlessly.  
“I love it.”  
He accentuates this with another kiss, this one brief before he lets Frank guide them down onto the blanket. Gerard grabs the chips as Frank pops open the thermos and produces two mugs from his bag.  
They settle back against the tree, Frank leaning with his back against Gerard’s chest as they dig into their snacks. Gerard makes sure to keep Frank close, lingering worries about him getting sick still bouncing around in his mind, but his husband doesn’t seem to mind all that much. The chips crunching feel impossibly loud against the stark silence of the cemetery around them. As Gerard sips his coffee, he can hear himself swallow. But once again, even though this should be creepy or unnerving, it’s just not.  
Living in the city means that this sorta quiet just isn’t a thing. There’s always cars and horns and neighbors and just noise. It’s faded into the background now, something he hardly even notices, until it’s gone. Until times like right now.  
After the food is finished and they’re just sitting in the comfortable silence, sipping on the last of their coffee, Gerard simply listens as Frank tells him about his day. He’s not complaining this time, even though Gerard wouldn’t mind if he wanted to tell him more about his asshole of a professor.  
But Frank mostly just rambles, talking about this really tiny dog he saw on his way to class and how he actually managed to tell the person who was walking it that he thought their dog was adorable. Then he goes on about this one chapter of his textbook that was super weird because it was written in second person or something.  
Gerard is honestly paying more attention to the sound of Frank’s voice and the emotion in the way he speaks, rather than the actual words themselves. He listens for the way Frank will laugh to himself before telling something he thinks is really funny and how he stutters sometimes when his mind is going faster than his words can keep pace with.  
The way that he can feel Frank breathe, can feel the heat gradually increasing as they warm the air beneath the blankets with their body heat. He notices how soft the blankets are, how they smell of their detergent.  
Frank’s wearing something pumpkin, the sent faint but all so familiar.  
“I love you,” Gerard says as the conversation tapers off a few minutes later.  
There’s no car alarms or construction going on just outside, it’s only the gentle fall breeze meandering through the top branches of the trees above them and the sound of Frank munching on a few handfuls of chips from a new bag.  
“I love you too,” Frank tells him, smiling gently and leaning up to press their lips together.  
He tastes oddly of sour cream and onion mixed with the hazelnut creamer in the coffee, but Gerard doesn’t mind. Truthfully, he’s not sure he would mind if Frank tastes like spoiled milk. Not that he’d ever expect that or anything.  
What he means is that it’s just Frank.  
Gerard may only be 22 years old but he considers himself one of the lucky ones. He doesn’t have a high paying job or big house, nor does he have a fancy law school degree under his belt. But what he does have is this.  
He has Frank, the love of his life. The guys who comes up with things like graveyard dates and thinks to pack chips as the food because he knows that it’s what Gerard likes.  
It’s not normal but then again, neither are they.  
The two of them stay there long into the night, morning classes and work schedules forgotten. They talk, about anything and everything.  
Gerard tells Frank about the old lady again and how he’s gonna miss her when she retires.  
And Frank talks about school some more before mentioning this really cool guitar that one of his classmates brought to the cafeteria. He tells Gerard about how the girl let him play it, how he spent hours playing until she asked, very politely, for her guitar back.  
As Frank talks, as their conversations dissolves into nothing of real significance, Gerard finds himself falling.  
Each time Frank’s voice spills out over the darkened hills and gravestones just beyond the candlelight, Gerard can feel it blooming warm in his chest. He twists the ring on his finger idly, savoring being able to embrace Frank like this, being able to hear him talk about nothing.  
As the night grows towards its end, Gerard falls all the more in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see this was one of the Not scary ones. Mostly just fluff cause I wanted to start this thing on a good note haha  
So if you liked this feel free to leave a kudos or comment. Seeing your reactions and thoughts always make my day!  
See you all tomorrow! 
> 
> *Also, maybe I'm just an idiot but my computer Will Not allow me to italicize anything. I do it in Google Docs perfectly normal but when I copy it into Archive it just goes away for some reason. Same thing happens with Microsoft Word. If anyone has any suggestions I'd greatly appreciate it. I had sooo many places I wanted to use italics but it won't let me and now I'm sad.*


	3. Baby You're A Haunted House (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And in the end/I'd do it all again/I think you're my best friend/Don't you know that the kids aren't all, kids aren't alright/I'll be yours/When it rains it pours/Stay thirsty like before"
> 
> ~The Kids Aren't All Right by Fall Out Boy because that song reminds me of all the high school crush vibes. Except the song is sad as shit. But will this one-shot be sad? Read to find out~
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
Insomnia  
anxiety  
uh- sorta mention of dead parents but it's only implied  
zombies, as in like costumes. no real zombies or blood
> 
> \-- just wanted to mention that tags do contain spoilers, kinda, but I feel like it's more important that we avoid things that could be dangerous for you guys to read. So if you get something spoiled it's sorta the lesser of two evils ya know? __

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy day 2!!  
It's a little after midnight so I'm technically slightly late and I'm sorry about that! I had another one-shot lined up for today but on my final editing of it I decided I hated it and scraped it. So yeah, I quickly finished editing this one and now I'm posting it instead. I love this one a lot, it's not my favorite so far but I still am a sucker for high school AU's even though I've never actually written one until now.  
This is gonna be Pete and Mikey centered and Gerard appears for like 2 seconds. Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Chapter title is from "Baby You're A Haunted House," an absolute bop by Gerard Way. --previous sentence was written by the author's sister. She wants me to tell you guys hi? So yeah, Bean says hi. *

Dragging himself up the school steps, Mikey tries to wake up enough to remember if he has Geometry first today or World History.  
The travel mug of coffee clutched tightly in his hand is his saving grace, a lifeline as he remembers that today is Tuesday so it’s math that he’s heading to at 8:30 in the fucking morning.  
With a groan he plops down into the desk in the far corner of the math room. He’s almost late and so the room is already mostly filled with other students. Thankfully, no one tries to talk to him, or even really notices how he’s nearly falling asleep in his chair.  
It’s not his fault he’s so tired, you can blame his older brother for that one. Gerard had insisted last night that they stay up and binge the horror movie marathon that was on TV and he’d, like an idiot, joined in gladly. Mikey had honestly had a good evening, his time spent just sharing a large pizza with his brother and laughing at the shitty gore effects. But now he’s exhausted and he’s certain that there was something he was supposed to do today. He feels like Neville in that one Harry Potter movie that he's too tired to remember the name of, where he knows he’s forgotten something but has no clue what it is.  
The beginning bell rings, loud and piercing enough to wake Mikey from where he’d nearly fallen asleep.  
He sits up blearily as the seat next to his is suddenly occupied. All four feet eleven inches of Pete Wentz compacts instantly in the cheap plastic school chair and he lets out a sharp breath as he gets settled.  
Mikey watches through the corner of his eyes as Pete reaches into his bag and pulls out a very disorganized math binder, papers falling out everywhere as he flings it onto the table.  
He looks terrible but that's everyday so Mikey doesn't worry too much.  
“Sup,” Pete mumbles once he notices Mikey watching him.  
He has to look away, focus just outside the window to his left as he watches the rolling fog cling to the school grounds as the sun fights to pierce the low clouds. It’s cold out, nearing the end of October, and it’s undisputedely Mikey’s favorite time of year.  
There’s many reasons that he loves October. Things like haunted houses, horror movie marathons with his brother, and badass costumes are high up on that list. There is just something about this entire month that makes everything feel a bit more in focus. Maybe it's the sharp bite to the air and the way the fog looks on lazy mornings as he nurses a coffee by his bedroom window.  
“You good dude?” Pete says, craning his head a bit to the side and whispering quietly so that Mrs. Eaton won’t tell them off for talking during her lesson.  
Funny, up until Pete moved here in August there were rumors around the school that Mikey was mute. They’re wrong of course, he can talk and he does, often at great length, but only when he’s around someone he’s comfortable with.  
Mostly it’s just his brother but Pete’s really grown on him in the few months that he’s known the older kid. It’s strange but Mikey doesn’t mind getting yelled at by frustrated teachers for talking, so long as it’s Pete he’s talking too.  
And oh-  
That’s what he was going to do today.  
“Yeah ‘m good. Gee convinced me into a movie night last night,” Mikey answers quietly, rolling his eyes.  
There hadn’t been much convincing on his part. Gerard works, a lot, and it’s hard to find time to hang out like they used to. But Mikey gets it, supporting a 16 year-old kid when you’re only 19 is not an easy thing to do. Gerard does good though, always making sure Mikey’s got enough for lunch money and occasionally a little extra for a new comic he’s had his eye on.  
Even though Pete’s response is extremely mumbled, so much so that Mikey can’t make out what he actually says, they both earn a rather harsh shush-ing from Mrs. Eaton.  
But Mikey’s not concerned by whatever the math teacher thinks they’re talking about. And yeah-sure this is technically small talk but Mikey can never get enough of talking to Pete.  
Looking back down at his desk, Mikey tries to focus on the lesson and not the plans that he somehow managed to forget this morning.  
He’s going to ask Pete out, as in totally not in a platonic way.  
Obviously he’s freaking out but after some help from Gee, he’s got a plan.  
See, the school is doing some stupid Halloween party on the 31st to discourage kids from going out and drinking or some shit. Normally Mikey would steer clear of anything school related that he’s not required by law to attend but the thing is, there’s supposed to be a group of kids putting on a haunted house out in the old gym building.  
The flyer taped to the bulletin board in the main hallway had said costumes were required to enter but there was no fee.  
This was his chance, Mikey could totally ask Pete to come to the stupid party with him and then they could go to the haunted house thing together.  
But first, he had to actually ask Pete out. Which was proving more difficult than he’d realized.  
Gerard had told him to just ask, to find a moment of pause in a conversation and go for it. Of course, his brother is a bit overly romantic and so Mikey’s fairly certain that it’s not going to be that easy.  
That is, if his anxiety has any say in this.  
Like always though, Geometry seems to drag on. It feels like literal hours rather than 45 minutes before the bell rings.  
Most of the students fly to pack up their things and rush out of the classroom, but Pete and Mikey both have a free period in here next. It’s just them since no teacher has this period free to watch them and Mikey knows that now is his chance.  
Risking a glance over at his friend, Mikey finally notices how tired Pete looks. More so than normal.  
There’s dark bags under his eyes and he’s resting his head in his palm like it’s too heavy to hold up. Mikey knows about Pete’s insomnia, knows already how bad it can get if he goes too long without sleeping.  
Instantly the worry surfaces.  
“Pete? You still with me?” he asks, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder.  
Pete looks up through tired eyes but flashes him a smile all the same.  
“Don’ worry Mikeyway.”  
The slur to his voice makes Mikey worry anyway, pun not intended, and he’s quickly scrounging around in his bag for his cellphone. He should call Gee, his brother mentioned he had today off for some reason, and get him to come pick them up. Pete looks too tired to actually function today anyway. Mikey doesn't know how he hadn't noticed it before.  
He's laying his upper half completely on the desk now, using his math binder as a make-shift pillow. And Mikey is fairly certain that if Pete could be asleep right now, he would.  
After firing a quick text to Gerard and stuffing his phone in his hoodie pocket, Mikey turns back to Pete. He’s got his own jacket wrapped tightly around him, like he's freezing. Pete's eyes are half-open and glossy as they stare off into space.  
“Pete, when’s the last time you slept?” Mikey asks carefully, keeping his voice quiet in case Pete has a sleep deprived induced headache.  
They’d had a long weekend for some reason and so the last time he’d seen Pete had been on Friday, during this period. One night without sleep was nothing new or abnormal for Pete but Mikey can vaguely remember him telling that he hadn’t slept last Thursday night.  
If Pete still hasn’t slept that’d make it… five days?!  
“Pete,” Mikey says, louder than before as he shakes his friend’s shoulder a bit to gain his attention.  
“Hmmm?”  
Pete raises his head a little, squinting against the harsh light of the empty classroom around them.  
“When’s the last time you slept?”  
“Uh… dunno. ‘Day’s t'day?”  
“Tuesday,” he supplies gently, worry beginning to twist in his gut even more.  
“Since ‘for long weekend.”  
“Shit. Pete why didn’t you text me over the weekend? I could’a sat with you and made sure you got some sleep!”  
He’s not mad, knows that it’s not Pete’s fault but still-  
Mikey was complaining earlier about how tired he was when Pete’s gone almost a week without sleeping.  
“Didn’t wanna bother you,” Pete admits at last, not able to meet Mikey’s eyes. “Didn’t want you to waste yer weekend on me.”  
With a sigh, Mikey reminds himself that Pete’s severely sleep deprived and probably won’t even remember admitting this later if he were to ask.  
Still, the implication that he'd be bothering Mikey by asking for help is a sharp blade in his heart right now.  
“Gee’s on his way, we’re gonna go back to mine okay?” he says instead, already digging through Pete’s bag for his emergency stash of meds.  
Mikey feels both privileged and terrified to know that he’s the only one, other than the school nurse- an older woman who’s super sweet but useless, in the nicest way possible- who knows that this is here.  
He does breathe a sigh of relief when he finds the small container of sleeping meds stuffed into one of the side pockets. Pete hates having to take them, has told Mikey many times that they make him feel weird.  
So, he won't force Pete to take them if he doesn’t want to but knowing they’re there in case they can’t get him to sleep is comforting. If a little concerning that it gets this bad often enough for him to need them.  
A few minutes later, right as Mikey finishes packing up their things, the intercom comes on, telling them that they’re both being checked out for the day.  
By some miracle, Mikey manages to drag Pete out of his seat and down the hallway to the main office. He’s waking up a bit now and Mikey doesn’t have to actually carry him so things are definitely better than what they could be.  
They find Gerard standing awkwardly in the office waiting area, holding tightly onto his own travel mug and looking like he just woke up. But he smiles as Mikey guides a semi-conscious Pete into the room and waits on Gerard to sign them out.  
The car ride is silent, no music blasting from the radio for once as they try and make sure Pete stays relaxed. If he gets too worked up he’ll never get to sleep, even with the meds.  
___________________________  
Three hours later, Mikey crashes on the couch in the living room. Pete has his bed, falling asleep after about two hours of Mikey talking quietly to him to try and get him to sleep while they waited for the meds to kick in, and Gerard’s doing something in his room. But Mikey doesn’t mind. He just curls up with the old, ratty crochet blanket, that still somehow smells like his mother even though it’s been years, and falls asleep.  
He’s woken up around dark by something falling down gracelessly onto the couch with him. There’s some muffled cursing and then an arm draping around his waist. The person is warm, tiny and Mikey slowly begins to realize that this is Pete, not his brother.  
His breath catches as Pete hums and snuggles closer.  
“Pete?” he whispers into the dark room surrounding them.  
There’s a rustle as Pete quickly begins to pull away, mumbling half formed apologies as he does so.  
“Sorry- sorry I just- I know you were asleep but I woke up and I was alone and I-”  
“Hey,” Mikey interrupts, noticing how frantic Pete’s tone was getting. “I don’t mind.”  
“Really?”  
He sounds so unsure, so hesitant and it breaks Mikey’s heart.  
“Absolutely. C’mere.”  
Opening his arms and lifting the blankets so Pete can slide up against him more easily, he waits patiently for his best friend to accept the invitation. It takes a few seconds but soon enough, Pete’s curling up against him and wrapping his arms hesitantly around Mikey’s waist.  
“Thank you,” he says after a while, so quietly that Mikey barely hears it.  
He’s nearly asleep again, lulled under by the warmth of Pete pressed so close to him and the soft sounds of him breathing into his neck.  
“Don’t gotta thank me,” Mikey mumbles, fighting through the sleep clinging to him.  
As he inevitably falls back under again, Pete falling right along side of him, Mikey doesn’t hear Pete whisper three precious words into the skin of his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!  
There will be a part two out for this tomorrow night and it will be the conclusion to this little two-shot. Is that a thing? Are they called two-shots? I have no clue what I'm doing, as you can see.  
\--edit: forgot to give credit to the prompt that I got this one from! I found it on Pinterest so I don't know the original creator.  
"You're a witch?!"  
"Was it the pointy hat or broom that gave it away?"  
"The smoking cauldron, actually."  
"Shit! It's not supposed to do that!"  
~so yeah, I changed it a bit to fit the ideas I had but I wanted to make sure to get credit~  
\-- end edit-  
But yeah, it'd mean a lot if you left a kudos or even a comment to let me know what you think! If you hate it, tell me why dude. I can always improve and I appreciate constrictive criticism. And if you liked it, please tell me. Feedback always is greatly appreciated!  
<3


	4. Baby You're A Haunted House (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I think you're my best friend"  
~ Also from The Kids Are Not Alright by Fall Out Boy~
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
*anxiety  
*stutters/speech impediment. Idk if that's a trigger but it's a thing in this chapter  
*mild homophobia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh day 3 dudes!!!!  
Wanna say a big thank you to @pauladiazcruz for helping me edit this chapter! She helped a ton in making this flow a bit better and making my ramblings actually make some form of sense.

Pete’s still asleep when Mikey wakes up a few hours later, energized and wide awake even though a quick glance to the clock on the far wall tells him that it’s nearly 2am.

He can see the light still on under his brother’s door, can faintly hear music playing low from Gerard’s speakers. The whole house is bathed in shadows, the walls blending together and the only light is moonlight shining down onto the carpet by the window.

Pete’s deeply asleep, his breaths even and slow, and Mikey knows better than to try and wake him. If they’re lucky he’ll be out until it’s time to go to class but he’s not completely sure he’d be willing to wake Pete if he’s still asleep by then.

So Mikey lays still and tries to think of anything else other than the dude he’s been crushing on since August sleeping literally on top of him. He longs to wrap his arms around Pete, to pull him even closer. 

He even goes as far to wonder what it’d be like to wake up like this every day. With the warm weight of Pete right beside him and his soft snores filling his ears. Eventually he drifts back off, warm despite the chill clinging to the air and completely at ease in Pete’s arms.

_______________________________

BRRIINNGG!!!

“Shit!” Mikey exclaims, sitting abruptly as he fumbles to turn off the alarm on his phone. 

It’s in his hoodie pocket from yesterday and it takes considerable effort for him to wiggle enough to reach inside his pocket to turn it off. It wouldn’t be so difficult if Pete didn’t have a death grip on him. Actually though, even as groggy as he is, he’s so far from complaining about it. 

“Mmhm? Waz goin’ on?” mumbles Pete, clearly still half asleep.

Mikey rubs a hand down his face, wiping away the sleep from his eyes as he tries to figure out what time it is. He can see the coffee pot on, half-empty, in the kitchen and a discarded pop tart wrapper lying on the counter beside it.  
Clearly Gerard’s already come and gone, so Mikey knows he needs to get himself and Pete up soon. Before they’re late to school.

“C’mon Pete. Time for school.”

“Nooooooo,” Pete whines, nuzzling even closer to Mikey and groaning loudly for dramatic effect.

“You slept like 14 hours and you need food and coffee.”

That earns him another groan but Pete does open one bleary eye at the mention of coffee.

“C’mon. Up,” Mikey says again, tapping Pete’s shoulder lovingly.

It does the trick, Pete flings himself up and stretches wildly as Mikey stands to go over to the coffee pot. It appears that Gerard left them a good bit of coffee. Thank god.

Though, Mikey’s not as happy about the sticky note taped to the handle. A hand-drawn smiley face winks up at him, making his face heat up at the thought of his brother walking through and seeing him and Pete curled up on the couch 

Mikey can hear the pad of his bare feet on the kitchen linoleum so he quickly chucks the note in the trash before Pete can see. To avoid looking suspicious, he gets to work pouring their cups.

“Thanks,” Pete says earnestly, grabbing his and taking a long sip, before all but moaning into the mug.

Instantly Mikey’s face heats into a blush yet again and he has to rush to hide it by opening the refrigerator door in a pretend search for breakfast food. Pete should probably eat something anyway. But all he can see is condiments and not much else. It must be time for Gerard to go shopping again.

“Mikey, really, thank you,” Pete says again as Mikey closes the door empty handed.  
He notices how Pete’s expression is so earnest, genuine as he stares down into the mug in his hand. But there’s a shy smile fighting it’s way through Pete’s expression. 

Mikey puts a hand on his shoulder, smiling too now as he realizes what Pete means.

“Always Pete.”

He means it. Pete’s like his only friend, not to mention his first crush for fucks sake, and Mikey plans on being there for him whenever he needs him. As stupid and cheesy as that sounds.

In this moment though, they’re just sorta... smiling at each other, Mikey’s hand still on Pete’s shoulder as neither of them try and move. They’re gonna be late soon if they don’t hurry up but Mikey doesn’t care. The way Pete’s looking at him, if he didn’t know better he’d say that there was a fondness in his eyes. Maybe even affection… 

And, actually, that serves to remind Mikey of the question he’s been trying to ask Pete since he realized that he was in love with him. And no. It’s not just a crush. It’s something so much deeper than that. But Mikey has no clue what that means or how the hell he’s supposed to do this because just looking at Pete right now is distracting him.

He’s never even had a crush on someone before Pete. He’s in entirely new territory and it’s terrifying. Especially as Pete continues to smile at him, eyes so freaking soft and brown. He’s lost in them really. In the deep, chocolate brown that’s staring right back at him. Like Pete can’t bear to look away either.  
Mikey’s not sure what Pete is thinking right now, if he’s on the same train of thought as he is, but Mikey knows that he needs to do this now. He needs to ask before he can sike himself out.

He takes a deep breath, watching Pete’s expression morph into one of confusion. 

“Will you be my date to the Halloween party?” he spits out, words tripping over each other in his haste.

Mikey prays that Pete understood him though, he isn’t sure if he could say it again.

The room is completely silent as Pete blinks at him, clearly not following. 

Shit.  
“I- I uh- I was wondering if you’d -if you-”  
Great, now Mikey is stuttering. Of all the times that it has to act up, of course it’s right now!

He looks down at his feet, trying to slow his thoughts down so he can actually get the words out. But it’s hard. All Mikey can think of is Pete saying no, laughing at him, or- or… worse.

What if Pete’s homophobic?

Despite the anxiety swirling in Mikey’s mind, Pete doesn’t push him away, nor does he start laughing and trying to play it off as a joke or something. 

“Your date?” Pete asks quietly even though he’s grinning like a little kid when Mikey looks back up.  
There’s that sparkle in his eyes that Mikey loves so much, the hint of mischief and humor that never fails to make his knees weak. 

Does this mean that Pete wants to go with him?

“If you- if you’d wan-want to,” he manages, cursing his stupid speech impediment for choosing now of all times to make its self known.

But just like Mikey knows about Pete’s insomnia, Pete knows about Mikey’s speech and how when he’s really anxious the stuttering returns. 

Slowly he realizes that he’s an idiot for thinking Pete would make fun of his stuttering, especially when Pete’s always been so patient with him whenever it acts up.

That still doesn’t mean that he likes him back though, doesn’t mean Pete would want to go on a date with him.

“Like I could say no Mikeyway,” Pete admits in a low tone, one that makes the heat return with full force to his face.

“It’s a date?” he adds shyly, surprised that he’s able to get the sentence out with how fast his heart is beating in his chest.

Because if they’re gonna do this, he wants no chance of Pete thinking that this is just a ‘we go as friends’ thing. If that’s the case, Mikey is honestly, probably, going to die on the spot.

“It’s a date,” Pete confirms gently, lips pulling into a soft smile.

~~__________________________~~

The final days of the month feel like they fly by, all of Mikey’s time spent doing homework and going to class. Well, actually that’s a lie. He tries to do those things, knows education is important or some shit, but mostly he’s just freaking out about actually going to the dance with Pete while trying to do his homework. 

Class is harder, especially Geometry with Pete sitting right next to him. It’s more than a little distracting.

Even so, Mikey is so beyond prepared as the two of them walk up the school steps as dusk on the night of the dance. He’s been planning this for what feels like forever. All the things he should say, how he’s gonna get Pete punch after they dance for a little while, how they’ll hold hands in the back of Gerard’s car as they drive home. To say he’s thought about this for the majority of the month is an understatement. With all of his plans, he’s actually, almost feeling confident for once. He’s got a plan and if it goes right, this night will be perfect. And will hopefully lead to more dates. 

As his brother’s car drives away, Mikey wonders if this is a dream.

It doesn’t feel real. After all the planning, standing here is strange.

Pete is right beside him, maybe inches away, and they’re both wearing their own costumes. Smiling a little to himself at the memory of the three of them making those costumes, lets just say a lot of fake blood was spilt trying to make Pete’s zombie costume perfect, Mikey tries to suppress the urge to reach out and just hold Pete’s hand. It’ s like right there and he really, really wants to.

He’s not sure if he should though.

Because even after Mikey asked him out, nothing’s really changed. They're both a bit more touchy, Pete literally leaning over Mikey’s shoulders sometimes in class and hugging him much more often than before, but it’s not awkward or forced like he’d worried would happen. But Mikey’s never even kissed anyone before and he has no idea how fast this is supposed to go. Are people supposed to kiss on the first date? Would it be weird if he kissed Pete at the dance?

Mikey tries to slow his thoughts as they walk through the front doors, knowing that freaking out will only lead to him not getting a chance to see how this evening goes. They’re met instantly with at least 20 other students packed into the hallway outside the cafeteria, where the dance is being held. Some people are in costumes but a good deal more are dressed in crumpled tuxes and super short dresses. 

Normally, Mikey can fly right under the radar, no one even looking up at him as he walks into a room, but with Pete right beside him and Mikey’s zombie hunter costume, every head seems to turn. Instantly, under the weight of so many judgemental stares, Mikey freezes. 

This is exactly why he doesn’t do things like dances or clubs or-or anything! They’re all staring at him and they can probably tell that Mikey and Pete are together and-

Pete’s hand slips into his, the action so sudden and breathtaking that Mikey nearly forgets the way people are staring at them. It mostly just shocks him enough to be able to tear his eyes away from some girl on the cheer squad glaring at him and actually look at Pete.

“They’re just scared cause we look like legit monsters,” Pete assures quietly, obviously trying to comfort him.

Somehow, Mikey does manage to laugh.

Although he’s definitely still shaking a little as Pete guides them towards the cafeteria. Right, the dance is in there. Not the hallway.

Mikey’s not sure what he was expecting but it wasn’t this.

It’s… It’s honestly kinda shitty.

The lights are off and there’s a hand-made backdrop depicting some shakily drawn tombstones and smiling ghosts. Some copy/paste pop song is literally blasting over the speakers in the corner, loud enough to make Mikey’s head hurt. There’s a lot of people too and he’s certain they’re all staring again. He can feel the weight of their eyes on the two of them.

But Pete keeps his hand in Mikey’s and guides them through the crowd, to a nice, secluded spot beside the folded up lunch tables. It’s a bit quieter here, further away from the speakers, and Mikey takes a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been putting off. 

“Good?” Pete asks him gently as he rubs his thumb over Mikey’s knuckles, his voice somehow quiet even with the loudness of everything around them.

He manages a nod, not sure if he’d be able to speak without stuttering right now anyway. But Pete never minds, he just plops down on the floor beside Mikey and begins pointing out the few people who don’t have short dresses on, going on about their costumes like a sports commentator.  
There are a few people dressed as Mario and someone as a mad scientist or something but other than that, not too many people have costumes. Unless you count ‘sexy _insert non-sexy thing here_’ as a costume. In that case there’s a girl who’s Cookie Monster (you don’t even wanna know how she made that ‘sexy’) and someone in puppy ears and a tail.  
Mikey wonders sometimes when that kinda thing ever became more fun than making your own costume. He, Pete, and Gerard had spent days working on these and Mikey’s certain he’s gonna smell like liquid latex and fake blood until freaking Christmas. But it was so worth it to see the costume when he stood in the mirror this evening.

“Want some punch?” 

“Uh…” he mumbles, caught off guard by Pete’s question.  
“C’mon,” Pete presses, his smile bright as ever. “You can’t be at a dance without punch, dude!”

Mikey lets Pete’s good mood lift his own, knowing that he can probably manage to not be miserable during this, if only because of Pete, if he lets himself. It’s not like Mikey actually hates social events, he’s just not very good at them. All the same, he puts on his best smirk and jerks his head towards the line for the punch bowl.

“You spiked it didn’t you?”

Pete mock gasps but they both break out into laughter the next moment. As if he’d had any time at all to pour alcohol in the punch bowl. Not when he’s been babysitting Mikey and keeping him from freaking out on the cafeteria floor.

“Man I wish but no, sadly,” Pete says, still laughing. “This is just gonna be shitty high school dance punch.” 

So Pete goes and gets him the punch, but Mikey ends up not even being able to drink it because it tastes like literal soapy water. Leaving the plastic cup on the floor by the table, Pete grabs his arm and drags him towards the center of the room. There’s a lot of people here, everyone dancing, but it’s slower than how fast everyone was dancing just a moment ago. Actually taking a moment to listen to the music, Mikey recognizes it as that one really fucking sad Green Day song that they seem to play at every dance. People are slow dancing to it all around them and Mikey damn near has a heart attack when Pete grabs his other hand.  
“May I have this dance?” he asks, voice soft and careful like there’s nothing else he wants to do other than dance with Mikey.

The room around them has fallen away, all Mikey can see is Pete. He’s watching Mikey carefully, a hint of the uncertainty swirling in those beautiful brown eyes of his. Once again, all he manages is a nod, his mind entirely too caught up in the fact that he and Pete are actually about to dance right now.

Pete pulls him close, wrapping one arm around his waist as they just sort of sway to the slow beat of the music around them. Up close, Mikey can see the individual brush strokes of the fake blood smeared over Pete’s face, can see the fake wounds already beginning to peel and fall off. He can see the softness in Pete’s eyes, the colors muted in the shitty lighting but still so mesmerizing. 

Mikey can feel the heat coming off of him from all the layers, the way his hand is a pleasant weight against his skin. Their eyes are only on each other, just like every stupid romance novel Mikey will ever deny reading. It’s just them and really, he’s starting to understand why people would write books about this feeling.

He never wants this moment to end.

But the song doesn’t last forever and the two of them are standing there still when the next song starts. 

People are giving them looks, Mikey can feel their eyes on him, but for once he doesn’t care. All that matters is that Pete is right here. 

He’s safe.

Mikey’s eyes flicker down to Pete’s lips, so incredibly soft looking and inviting and parted ever so slightly and-

He leans forward suddenly, pressing their lips together as much as he dares. It’s innocent and closed mouthed, but Mikey doesn’t know what to do. He’d just acted and his heart is racing, his mind screaming that he’s read this wrong and that Pete won’t kiss back, that he’s doing this wrong and-

Slowly, Pete begins kissing back. His movements are more sure, guiding Mikey through it as he pulls him even closer. 

It’s somehow even better than Mikey had imagined it would be, not that he’d ever admit to thinking about this moment beforehand. His knees feels like absolute mush by the time they finally pull apart. It takes Mikey a moment to realize he hasn’t even opened his eyes yet. 

When he does, he’s met with that blinding smile that only Pete can pull off sincerely.

He blinks slowly and realizes that they’re still at the dance, in the middle of the room, and Mikey finally notices how almost every eye is currently on them. There’s teachers giving them a glare for public affection, while there’s straight couples basically naked in the corner, but the band teacher is smiling and giving them a thumbs up when Mikey catches his eye. Some kids are smiling, other’s glaring, but no one makes a move to interrupt them.

Mikey’s still flush against Pete, chest to chest as he fights to get his senses back. He feels pleasantly warm, content and safe. Just kissing shouldn’t be this big of a deal. Should it? But then again, it is Pete and he always does seem to make Mikey feel everything a little more sharply.

“Wanna go to the haunted house Mikeyway?” 

“Please.”

As soon as the eyes are off of them, Mikey lets himself take a breath. He doesn't regret kissing Pete, he actually would like very much to do that again, as soon as possible, but he also basically just came out to the entire school. He’s honestly shaking a little just thinking about what Monday is gonna be like.

But Pete has his hand held tightly and Mikey thinks that maybe it’s going to be okay.  
They approach the doors of the old gym and find it far less crowded than the cafeteria, for which Mikey is unbelievably thankful. Pete nods to the girl standing at the entrance and she smiles, thanking them for showing up and complementing their costumes, before waving them inside. 

It turns out to not be that scary. Just a few kids jumping out at them wearing homemade masks and the soundtrack to a popular horror movie playing over the speakers. Mikey’s been in quite a few haunted houses before, so he knows this shit, and this one’s nothing compared to this one haunted corn maze he went to a few years back. Now that was scary. 

Even so, he does get surprised a few times. He jumps when people pop out of fake walls and even gets goosebumps when they walk into cobwebs at one point. Not scary exactly but not bad either. It’s nice actually.  
Pete on the other hand, jumps at everything, every sound, and his grip is so tight on Mikey’s hand that he’s certain he’s losing circulation.  
He doesn’t mind at all, especially not afterwards as they’re sitting on the steps waiting for his brother. They’re both tired, the long night finally over and the conversation dipping a bit with their fatigue. But then Pete leans over and kisses him again, kisses him like there’s no where else he’d rather be. Mikey allows himself to melt into it, letting Pete guide him again as they both get a little lost in the feeling.

A car honking makes them pull apart quickly and Mikey is both pissed and amused to see his brother waving at them. But it’s cold outside so he’s also grateful for the promise of a warm drive home.

As he slams the car door shut, Pete climbs into the back with him and starts snoring on his shoulder. Running his hand through Pete’s hair as he sleeps, Mikey and Gerard make eye contact through the rear view mirror.

“Have fun?” Gerard asks innocently, no trace of mocking in his tone.  
He looks proud and Mikey has to fight down the blush at the reminder that Pete kissed him twice tonight.

“Yeah. We did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for reading.  
Yeah so this one was super fun to write. I found that I actually enjoy writing high school AUs so I may be doing similar things more often in the future. Or maybe a few more times in this challenge as well.  
Don't be afraid to tell me what you think! I thrive off of feedback. I'll see you all tomorrow night for a chapter I haven't decided on yet because I'm indecisive. Thanks again for reading!


	5. Sometimes I Get the Feelin' She's Watching Over Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
*Ghosts/ demons depending on what you believe  
*anxiety- which is honestly probably gonna be in all of these because I project my problems on to fictional people

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4!  
Wow this is definitely shaping up to be harder than I anticipated but I'm honestly having so much fun with this!  
This one's Frank and Gee centered!  
Once again thank you to @pauladiazcruz for being awesome and helping me edit this!  
*Chapter Title is from Welcome To The Black Parade!*

Tucking the awkwardly shaped box into his bag is harder than expected but he’d already refused the plastic bag the cashier offered him. He feels entirely too awkward to ask now anyway.

Frank fights the zipper on his back pack for a few agonizing seconds before it finally gives in and zips up on his final tug. The people behind him in line practically sigh in relief as he smiles as politely as he can and grabs his receipt.  
Frank is thankful for small town security as he walks out without even having to show his receipt to anyone. Whenever he goes into the city he’s always one of the people getting stopped because he looks ‘suspicious’ with all of his tattoos and layers and shit hair dye. But not even recalling his horrible anxiety at the thought of pissed off store clerks can kill his good mood today.

He’s got plans for tonight, big plans that he only just came up with as he stood in the board game aisle twenty minutes ago. 

The crisp fall air engulfs him the moment he exits the automatic doors of the store. He smiles, glancing down to his watch and realizing it’s only 6pm. Though it’s already getting dark, the soft wind containing the first hints of frigid winter air. Frank wraps his jacket a bit tighter around himself, chilled even through the flannel and leather jacket that he’s currently sporting. 

Turning left at the end of the small parking lot, Frank jams his other earphone back in his ear and turns the volume up for his walk home. 

The sidewalk beneath his feet is littered with the faded reds and oranges of the decaying leaves that have fallen there. A deep breath through his nose gives him the familiar scent of fall rain and dirt.

This is his favorite time of year, hands down. Not just because of his birthday, not just because of Halloween, but because of views like the one he has right now.

Most houses along his way have small fires already burning in their fireplaces, the chimneys on their roofs guiding soft, grey smoke up into the atmosphere. The smoke mixes in with the similar grey of the clouds above, filling Frank’s mind with thoughts of his own cozy fireplace at home. And his very warm, incredibly soft boyfriend who’s hopefully off work by now.

But he doesn’t pick up his leisurely pace, doesn’t rush. He’s always been captured, drawn in by the colors and shades of the leaves this time of year. There is something in the way they each seem to be so unique but also blend into such beautiful works of art when looked at from afar. Frank takes time to look at each tree he passes, most of the houses on his road having at least one planted in their yard. 

His walk home takes longer than normal but that’s okay, his playlist is long and his ability to stare at nature as he walks a well known fact to his boyfriend. Gerard wouldn’t be worried unless he stayed out after dark because they both know that the steadily cooling air is not good for his weak ass lungs.

Pushing his front door open a good 45 minutes later- they never bother locking the front door, even if they’re both gone for the day- and hanging his backpack on the on the wall beside the entranceway, Frank hears the muffled music coming from their bathroom. 

Gerard must be in the shower then.

Smiling to himself, Frank pulls the box out of his bag along with the couple of household supplies he’d gone to the store for in the first place. 

Discarding the boring adult things like dish sponges on the dining room table, Frank begins gathering all of the things that he’s going to need for his surprise. 

Twenty minutes later the bathroom door opens down the hall and the sound of Gerard’s music grows louder. Frank can hear him singing along quietly to the song and the uneven footsteps that carry through the house as Gerard goes into their bedroom tells him that he’s probably dancing too. 

When Gerard emerges a few minutes after, sporting a thick hoodie and some batman pajama pants while still singing quietly to himself, Frank waves at him from the living room floor. 

Finally noticing that Frank is home, Gerard breaks out in a smile and comes over to lean over and kiss the top of his head. With him this close, Frank can smell the shampoo that Gerard uses and the constant coffee scent that lingers on his boyfriend's skin. 

“Evenin’ baby. Didn’t know you were home,” Gerard says, taking a place on the floor beside Frank.

He doesn’t even question the thirty-something candles spread out around them on the ground, nor does he blink at the wikipedia article pulled up on Frank’s phone that's resting on his knee. Gerard is used to his strangeness and love for spooky shit, but Frank can tell he’s waiting on him to explain today's weird idea. 

The candles and articles about ghosts and shit aren’t new but the ouija board resting on the ground a few feet away most definitely is.

“We’re gonna talk to some spirits!” Frank tells him excitedly, letting some of his enthusiasm peak out as he waves his hand to the board between them. 

The air displaced by his wild gesture causes the candles to flicker as Gerard just laughs in that soft little laugh of his and connects his hand with Frank’s. 

“Wanna help?” Frank adds, turning to watch Gerard’s face for any sign of hesitation.

“Why the fuck not. This one guy at work has a brother who’s a preacher so if we get haunted we won’t have to worry.”

“Fuck yeah!” Frank says, squeezing Gerard’s hand once before letting go and motioning for him to take a spot directly across from him.

After Gerard’s in place, Frank glances down at the article on his phone, briefly skimming it before carefully placing his hands on the little tear shaped dial-thing in front of him. The article says to close their eyes and then ask the questions they want the spirits to answer, so Frank instructs Gerard to follow his lead.

They wait a beat of silence before he’s asking his first question, keeping his voice clear and strong like the article said to do. 

“Are there any spirits who can hear us?”

After he speaks, Frank waits a few seconds before he glances down at the dial under his and Gerard’s fingers.

It’s moved, without him even realizing it the little plastic dial is now resting over the printed “yes” on the board.

“Holy shit, Gerard open your eyes. Look!” he exclaims in a loud whisper.  
Gerard looks down hesitantly, looking rather pale in the light of the candles and weak dusk sunlight that lingers outside their windows. 

“Did you move it?” he asks Frank, his voice just as quiet but holding a slightly panicked edge to it.

“Nope. I wanna ask another; close your eyes!” 

Gerard looks hesitant but he complies, his eyes flickering shut as he takes a calming breath. Frank waits again for the quiet to settle before speaking again.

“Can you tell me how many of you there are?”

This time, Frank opens his eyes quickly. But the dial has already moved, once again without him feeling it slide across the cheap cardboard.

It rests over the “1”.

Frank smiles, laughing a little to himself and making Gerard open his eyes too. His boyfriend looks down even more hesitantly than before, his hands slightly clammy against Frank’s. 

“We’re talking to a real life spirit! Holy shit Gee!”

“Yeah- yeah that’s-”

The candles all flicker out at once, a cold draft from seemingly nowhere chilling Frank even through all of his layers. It’s completely dark now, the only light coming from the dim screen of his phone as it rests on his knee.

“Frankie?” Gerard whispers, voice higher than normal and betraying his fear.

“It’s fine, just a breeze,” he tries, hoping his voice sounds more sure than he feels.  
“Inside?” 

Frank can hear the sarcasm even though he can’t see Gerard’s face. 

This time, he feels the dial as it moves. It moves without him asking anything and he has to hurry and grab his phone with his free hand. With the screen shining on the board in front of them, Frank watches the dial spell out three words.

“I’m already here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
I dunno how scary that was but this was my first attempt at writing something actually scary, rather than just suspenseful.  
As always, feel free to tell me what you think! Hearing your thoughts always means a ton!  
See you tomorrow!


	6. The Ghost of You (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ever...Get the feeling that you're never/All alone and I remember now"  
~Ghost of You by My Chemical Romance~
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
*cursing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5!!!  
It's been a Long day dudes, ya boi about to go to sleep like a champion. And then wake up at 6am for work... yay!  
Thank you once again to @pauladiazcruz for helping me try and figure out what to do and where to go with this one!!  
But yeah, happy day 5. Hope you all enjoy!

It’d be an understatement to say that Gerard was a busy dude.

Not that he’s always partying or whatever, it’s just that his work life and social life are basically one and the same.

Now, he absolutely loves the comic book store that he owns. He chose to run it himself, alongside a couple of close friends rather than hiring out a bunch of random people. It’s tiny and simple, and that’s the point. But because of the small number of staff, Gerard is there almost every day. 

This has been a dream of his, owning a comic store that is, since he was young and he honestly couldn’t imagine doing anything else with his life. Not at this point anyway.  
Because Gerard loves comics, they’re his thing. He could honestly probably fucking recite Doom Patrol at this point since he’s read it at least a billion times, give or take. In fact, most of his high school days were spent curled up somewhere, hiding away while reading. Just ask his brother, or his parents. They’d all agree that comics and art were just about the only things that Gerard ever seemed to be doing. Not that there was anything wrong with that, he assured himself.

He’d found his passions at an early age and was lucky enough to be able to grow up with them. It’s relaxing, almost therapeutic the way his paintbrush feels going across the page or the unique ‘new book’ smell whenever he gets his hands on a new release. 

But, between running his store, which is actually even more stressful than it sounds- trust him-, and trying to keep things interesting for the short attention spans of his regular clientele of 12-18 year olds, Gerard doesn’t have much time for anything else. Especially things like friends or parties.  
Sure, on the days that his manager, Ray, borderline orders him to go home and get some actual sleep, Gerard sometimes does listen. His walk of shame consists of the trudge up the steps to his apartment to get a nap after being scolded by Ray for not sleeping enough. He always does tell Gerard that he should be getting more sleep since work is literally only a flight of steps away from his home.

And, truthfully, he’s not entirely sure how he got so lucky in finding this place. It’s more than a little old and definitely classified as “run down” when he’d first looked at it. But now, after a billion new coats of paint and some basic repairs, it looks more like a cozy bookstore rather than an old witch’s hut. Not that there’s anything wrong with that of course, Gerard just prefers something less covered in cobwebs and leaking ceilings. 

The upstairs living area isn’t grand or anything either. It’s not like Monica and Rachel’s apartment in Friends with all that open space for seven people to hang out comfortably in. 

It’s just home.

It’s cluttered and small, well overdue for a good dusting but it’s entirely his and he loves it. Besides, when does Gerard have time to actually clean?

But today happens to be one of the days where Ray absolutely insists that he goes home early because, and I quote, he looks " like someone jumped on the side of your face while you were trying to sleep last night.”

Gerard has no clue what the hell that’s supposed to mean but he gets the point. He looks like death warmed up in a shity microwave from 1970 and he needs a nap. 

And maybe a shower.

Throwing his keys and bag down carelessly onto the sofa, Gerard trudges into the kitchen. He’s starving because he was an idiot and didn’t set an alarm this morning, causing him to have to rush out without grabbing anything to eat.  
It’s his own fault, but breakfast was the price to pay if he wanted to open up the shop on time.  
Gerards finds himself pausing as he steps through the archway that leads to the kitchen. The sharp cold from the linoleum floor seeps the heat from his bare feet, causing a shiver to run up his spine.

Something’s… different.

The lights are off and so all Gerard can make out is the hazy outlines of his kitchen appliances, most of which he have hardly used since he moved here.

But the darkness isn’t odd, it’s normal actually. 

What’s weird is that- it- it actually smells… good in here.

Gerard had been preparing himself for the stench of the pile of dishes in the sink and the trash that probably needed to be taken out sometime last week.  
Now, make no mistake. Gerard’s not like a hoarder or one of those people who just live in their own filth.

He’s not. Promise.

But it’s just that these past few weeks have been increasingly hectic with trying to find a new company to supply his most popular comics after the old one went out of business. Then, on top of that steaming ball of stress, was the fact that Bob just got up and quit one evening.

He’d not even said why, just closed up early, locked the door, and left.

So Gerard’s been taking over his shifts this week on top of everything else and-

And yeah, so his apartment is currently more than a little disgusting.

Except, there’s no eye watering smell of ruined food that has been sitting in the sink for five days too long.

There’s nothing but a warm, almost Italian, sent lingering in the air. It smells amazing and Gerard fumbles with the lightswitch to his right in a hasty attempt to see what the hell smells so good. 

With the light finally on, and a sharp twinge in his ribs telling him he should probably take of his binder before actually investigating what the hell is going on, Gerard steps into the kitchen.

He gasps audibly, eyes darting from counter to counter.

It’s spotless.

The dishes are all stacked up on the drainer, clean and shining, and the counters look scrubbed down. Even the floor has been swept and the trash taken out, a fresh bag already in the can.

Who the hell…

There’s no way that Gerard did this, he’s certain that he hasn’t spent more than 10 minutes in here in the past two weeks. He’s only really been in the kitchen for coffee or leftover pizza.

Maybe it was Ray?  
He has often told Gerard that needs to hire a cleaner or something since he’s always too busy to do the cleaning up himself.

But Ray wouldn’t like- break into his apartment and clean his kitchen for him. Would he?

Well, okay, it wouldn’t exactly be breaking in. Gerard had given him the key ages ago. They’re friends, like best friends, and so yeah- maybe he was sick of Gerard’s filthy kitchen and decided to do something about it. That’s a normal thing that friends do right?

But wait- 

Did Ray cook for him too?

There, on the stove sits a large, red pot with a lid covering it. On the counter to the side, Gerard spots a pastel sticky note. He picks it up, reading over what it says and only growing more confused.

It’s vegan spaghetti!! 

Just below the words is a little smiley face drawn at the bottom.

That’s definitely not Ray’s handwriting. It’s too scratchy, almost as if the person writing it was almost too shaky to be trying to hold a pen, and Gerard knows that Ray has the penmenship of a fucking god.

Okay, wow. That’s weird, Gerard is weird. He needs to go to sleep now.

Making himself a bowl of the mystery spaghetti, Gerard retreats to his room. Binder discarded and comfortable pajamas in place, he slides into bed with a content sigh.

Maybe Ray’s right, maybe he should get some more sleep.

It’s barely past 3pm but Gerard is exhausted. He’s fairly certain he went to bed at like three-am today so it’s better than normal at least. But still probably not a good thing when he had to wake up at six to be able to open by seven.

After a protesting grumble from his stomach, Gerard remembers the bowl in his hand. He digs in, finding quickly that this is probably the best fucking spahgettii that he’s ever had.  
Don’t tell his mom, she’d kill him.

It’s true though and he finishes the food in record time. Discarding the bowl to the bedside table for future him to deal with, Gerard clicks off his table lamp and the room falls into darkness.

He’s thankful he bought the blackout curtains now. The sunlight would definitely put a damper on his nap if he hadn’t.

Wow… a damper… he’s turning into an old man.

Laughing quietly to himself, Gerard rolls over. He falls asleep instantly.

\--~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~--

It’s happened again.

Another two weeks, another long list of shit he has to get done that’s entirely too stressful, and another filthy apartment.  
Except, it’s not. 

Everything is spotless and not just the kitchen this time. He is certain that it was dirty when he left this morning but now it’s as clean as the day he moved in.

Gerard had ended up deciding to not ask Ray about it the first time his place got cleaned. He’s not sure why but it just felt like something Ray wouldn’t want him bringing up. It was weird that he’d want to clean Gerard’s apartment for him but maybe it was like a thing that people did that he was just oblivious about. That sorta thing has happened before.

Regardless, here he is again, coming home early from work and finding his apartment clean. Gerard can smell food, once again the spices in the air distinctly Italian.

Curious now, he walks across to well vacuumed floor of his entranceway/living room and into the kitchen. 

It’s spotless too, swept and mopped, with another pot simmering quietly to itself on the stove. Making a bee-line towards the food, he’s starving yet again, Gerard finds it full of… something.

He’s never been good at naming Italian dishes- is that even a thing? Are people just able to look at a food-thing and know what culture it’s from?- but he’s almost positive it’s Italian.  
Which is odd because if this is Ray making him meals, shouldn’t they be things he’s learned from his family, who Gerard knows to mostly live in Puerto Rico, rather than Italian?

Now, Gerard knows that Ray can cook whatever the hell he wants, regardless of his nationality, but like- he’s also fairly certain that Ray does actually cook the food his family prepared when he was younger.

Whenever they both have some free time, which sadly isn’t too often, they sometimes go over to Ray’s for dinner and he’ll cook these homemade, traditional meals that Gerard can’t even begin to try and pronounce. 

The food never fails to be delicious, always making him feel like he’s eaten Ray’s mother’s home cooking. 

So that only serves to make the obviously Italian food sitting on his stove even more strange. There’s another note, this one not naming the dish but instead having only a crooked smiley face take up most of the space.

With a shrug, because who the hell would turn down free food, Gerard grabs a plate and diggs in. It’s amazing, just like last time, and he goes back for seconds.

Sitting at the kitchen table for once while he lazilly flips through the comic that he’s currently reading, Gerard doesn’t see the newcomer enter the kitchen until they speak.

“You should take care of yourself more.” 

Startling, Gerard drops his fork and winces as it clunks loudly on the ceramic plate. 

Standing in front of him about two feet away is… a kid. They’re small, hard to see in the dingy light coming from the living room behind them.

With long, unruly hair and a dark, baggy hoodie that quite literally swallows the person’s body, Gerard has no clue who the hell they are or their age.

But they seem to be… distant, out of focus in a way. 

“Who are you?” he asks lamely, standing from the table to get a little closer.

The kid takes a step back, the fear flashing across their face enough to make Gerard hold his hands up reflectively.  
“I’m not gonna hurt you. I just- how the hell did you get in my apartment?”

All Gerard gets is a soft smile, the kid seemingly flickering out of view for a moment before reappearing. 

“You should take care of yourself more,” they repeat, voice sounding further away than before.  
Actually, the kid looks tired and Gerard can clearly see dark circles under their eyes. He’s slowly trying to figure this out but if the kid runs off before he can ask questions then he’s not gonna learn anything. And this is like the most interesting thing that has ever happened to him. So he has to get to the bottom of whatever is going on.  
Gerard has a boring life, it’s fine.

“I know,” he agrees in an attempt to keep the strange kid here a little while longer. “Did you clean up for me?”

That earns him a nod and Gerard feels himself fighting back a smile. 

Progress.

“I’m assuming you cooked too,” he continues gently, afraid of scaring the kid away. “You’ve got talent, kid.”

The kid flickers but rather than fading out like they have been, they seem to get brighter all of a sudden. There’s something unreadable written across their face and when they speak again their voice is much stronger than before.  
“I am not a kid.”

There’s fury under there, something terrifying in the glint in their eyes that makes Gerard take a hurried step backwards.

“Shit, sorry,” Gerard mumbles under his breath, honestly ashamed at himself for making this person upset with him.

He’s not good with people, why else do you think he runs a comic store and has exactly 1 (one) friend?

“I’m 23,” the person admits quietly, again something unreadable in their tone.  
But it has Gerard looking up from his socks and actually taking a moment to really look at the person in front of him. The stranger does look like an adult if Gerard squints again but it’s hard to tell with how fucking tiny they are. Maybe it’s the hoodie, maybe it’s that Gerard is actually pretty tall if he doesn’t slouch but-

Gerard’s pretty sure he’s figured it out. All the signs are there, Gerard’s just an idiot.

He knows ghosts are real, spirits of people who don’t want to move on for whatever reason. They’re fairly common but they generally keep to themselves because interacting with the living is exhausting to them. That is unless they are assisted by a witch or someone who has a fine knowledge of magics.

And here Gerard is, keeping this kid- sorry, person talking after they’ve literally cleaned his whole apartment. No wonder they’re short tempered with him. 

“What’s your name?” he asks quickly, afraid suddenly that his time is going to run out soon.

“Frank.”

The ghost, Frank, has a soft voice, gentle and rough at the same time. It’s definitely strange hearing them talk, listening to the way that Frank’s voice cuts in and out like a bad signal on the radio.

“I’m Gerard, or Gee depending on the day,” he offers, smiling slightly.

He’s been kinda shit towards this ghost, Frank, and so maybe he can make up for it.

“I know I’ve kept you a while but- thank you. You didn’t have to clean and cook for me, dude.” 

Gerard shakes his head, wondering why him of all people Frank decided to help.

But Frank doesn’t answer. He just fades back into the wall and leaves Gerard alone in his own kitchen once again. 

He hadn’t even realized how cold he’d gotten until Frank left. Though heat is quickly returning to his body, he's absolutely freezing. A simple sweater fixes the problem until the heat returns to his apartment and so Gerard doesn’t dwell on it too long, instead deciding to actually be productive for once.

If Frank’s doing chores from beyond the grave, Gerard can handle cleaning up while he’s still alive.

Getting to work in actually cleaning up his mess, Gerard quickly does the small amount of dishes he’s dirtied and puts the food Frank made into a container before finding a spot for it in the fridge. 

Satisfied that Frank won’t try and clean again tonight, Gerard flicks off the lights and heads to his bed. 

As he’s falling asleep, he makes a mental note to ask Ray if he knows of any witches in the area. Surely there’s one close by who wouldn’t mind helping to make an anchor or something to help Frank channel himself so that he and Gerard can talk more.

Is it weird that he is strangely excited to talk to the ghost that’s haunting him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one was the Big one I mentioned the first day. I really love this idea and I'm so excited to post it. I've got most of the second part already done and it's gonna go up tomorrow! This will end up being about three or four parts!  
If you like this, please don't hesitate to leave a kudos or comment. They really do mean a lot!  
<3


	7. The Ghost of You (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Give me a reason to believe"  
~Thank You For The Venom by My Chem~
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
*cursing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening everyone!  
There's gonna be one more chapter for this one and then I'm going to go back to posting 'true' one-shots after that. A very big thank you to @pauladiazcruz for all of her help with this!  
Have a good night dudes!!

“So- yeah, long story short, there’s a ghost in my apartment and he’s started cooking for me,” Gerard tries to explain, nervously tugging at the string of his hoodie.  
Ray looks… not disinterested but definitely skeptical. Sure, ghosts are common knowledge but that doesn’t mean they show up often. They normally keep to themselves. 

It’s a slow day in Gerard’s shop today, meaning that he and Ray are able to have this conversation behind the counter without much interruptance. Which Gerard is grateful for. He’s been driving himself nuts trying to figure out how he can help Frank. 

Because why would Frank randomly chose him to haunt? And why would he clean up for Gerard rather than do normal ghost shit? 

To him, it’d be a better use of his energy to actual haunt or scare someone than to do their chores. 

But the sentiment behind that, just the fact that Frank cared enough to help Gerard out even when they didn’t even know each other existed… it’s really sweet. Maybe that’s why he cares so much, why he’s so eager to figure out how to talk to Frank more easily.

First though, before all of that, Gerard has to get someone else helping him with this. Because clearly, trying to find actual witches is harder than it sounds. 

He’s checked newspapers, bulletin boards around town, even freaking Yelp but there’s nothing but actors and fakes. Even a call to Mikey had proven useless. Gerard’s brother had mentioned anchors might work, or focal points as he’d called them, but he wasn’t sure how to go about creating one. Which basically led Gerard back to square-fucking one.

A fresh mind, i.e. Ray, is his next best bet because Gerard is running out of options. Then again, it’s not like Frank’s shown up at all this week anyway.

“Seriously?” Ray demands, clearly waiting on Gerard to say a punch line or something and reveal this all as a joke.

Just then, the doorbell chimes and a pre-teen kid in a bomber jacket wonders in. Gerard watches for a moment as they weave between the aisles, browsing quietly. When it’s clear they’re not about to come up front right away, he turns back to Ray. 

“I swear!” he says defensively, unconsciously waving his arms as he does so. “He cooks for me and he even cleaned up too!” 

“Why would this ghost start all of a sudden cleaning up after your ass? I’ve known you for freaking years and you know for a fact that I am not touching your dirty dishes unless someone’s dying.”  
“I dunno,” Gerard admits with a shrug, glancing around the shop in a pitiful attempt to see Frank.

Even though he knows that the chances are slim.

He never see’s Frank anywhere but in the kitchen or living room if he’s lucky, so it’s dumb to look for him down here. Even though this is technically the same building and so by Gerard's knowledge, Frank should be able to appear here. If Frank’s spirit is tied here, then shouldn’t he be able to manifest in any part of it?

But Gerard’s not an expert so he can’t be sure either way. 

“Okay,” Ray says diplomatically, running a hand down his face as if trying to collect his thoughts before continuing. “So a random ass ghost just shows up and starts making you dinner out of the blue?”

“Yeah. I think my eating habits are being judged, honestly. But like- he told me his name and we’ve actually talked a little!”

“Okay, and you’re telling me this…”

Ray waves his hand in a ‘keep talking’ motion.

“Oh!” Gerard exclaims, making Ray jump a little as he suddenly remembers that there was in fact a point to this conversation. “I need your help finding a local witch.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. You know how like- talking to us- living people I mean- is really hard on ghosts ‘cause they have to like manifest and project themselves or whatever?” Ray nods slowly, clearly making a valiant effort to follow Gerard's train of thought. “well, witches are able to give the ghost like a- a uh...focal point or something. Basically, according to Wikipedia and my brother, you’re giving them a path of sorts to follow. It makes it loads easier for them to talk and interact with us.”

“You’re serious about this aren’t you?” Ray asks, exasperation rolling off him in waves.

Gerard nods eagerly.  
He doesn’t have many friends and so just talking to someone other than Ray, or his brother, or his brother’s boyfriend, is nice. It’s new and refreshing and Gerard hates to admit it but he was getting lonely. 

Ray’s awesome, Gerard would do like- anything for him, but he’s also extremely excited to have another person to add to his small list of friends. 

Before he or Ray can continue though, the kid that came in is over at the counter. He rings them up quickly,with nothing more than polite smiles because Gerard can clearly see the headphone cords poking out of their bright red hair. He gets it, headphones mean they don’t want to be talked to so he’s not about to try and make them. 

“Okay, I’ll help you look,” Ray says as the kid leaves through the front door, his tone almost defeated.

There’s that familiar look in his eyes though, fond amusement as Gerard calls it. Ray likes to pretend that he doesn’t enjoy his weirdness but at the same time, Gerard knows that he really does care about him. Especially as he brings Gerard in for a quick side hug to assure him that he does actually want to help. 

_______________________________

“You wanna do what now?”

Frank’s voice tonight is quiet, faint as if he’s speaking through layers of curtains rather than standing right beside Gerard. He’s thinner too, his form not quite translucent but far weaker than the last time he’s seen him.

“I want you to meet my friend, Ray,” Gerard explans. “He’s gonna help me find you an anchor. Then we’ll be able to talk much more easily. I can tell how much this takes out of you and I don’t want you to have to suffer like that just to talk to me.”

Frank smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. They’re deeply sad tonight, tired.  
Still, Gerard waits on Frank’s response. 

He won’t force Frank to do this if he doesn’t want to but fuck- Gerard really, really wants Ray to meet him. The chance to be able to talk to Frank more often, free of the guilt building in his gut for being the cause of him expending so much energy, is more than worth it.

Maybe he gets attached to people way too quickly.

“Dunno how long I can talk to ‘im,” Frank admits at last, flickering dangerously right before Gerard’s eyes.  
Normally it takes much longer for Frank to get this tired and he knows that he hasn’t even cleaned or anything today.

“Can you like- go and rest or something, and then pop back in when he gets here?” he asks, just to be sure.

Frank shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest like he’s chilled. Which is odd because normally Gerard is the one freezing during their conversations. Today though, he’d been prepared with an extra layer and a blanket just in case. The blanket is rather cozy draped over his shoulders.

He sorta wants to offer it to Frank, even though he knows that it wouldn’t do him any good. 

“Did you clean?” Gerard finds himself asking, even though he knows the answer already.

If Frank uses all of his energy, what will happen?

Will he just like- fade out of existence or something? 

That thought alone makes Gerard’s skin tingle as a shiver runs through him at the idea of Frank simply ceasing to exist. It’d be Gerard’s fault if that happened. Especially because Frank had already looked exhausted when he showed up a little bit ago.

“No. Someone’s- someone’s doing a cleansing-thing next door or somethin’ and it-”

Gerard’s never seen a ghost cough before but it’s no less terrifying than watching a living person practically hack up a lung. 

That's exactly what it sounds like, though. 

He goes forward, making to steady Frank as he hunches over, before remembering that he can’t actually touch him. They’ve touched just once, only to see if they could, but it’d been one hell of a drain on Frank.

They haven't tried it since.

“Frank?” Gerard asks, concern dripping in his voice as Frank finally stops coughing.

He straightens up but Gerard can barely see him because his form is just so... so faint.  
“Bout time I told ya I guess?” Frank says weakly, shrugging a little.

“What- what do you mean? Tell me what?”

“Finding a thing to anchor me, it won’t work. I’m- I’m not a ghost in the… traditional sense, I guess,” Frank explains quietly as he fades in and out for a moment while Gerard just tries to process what he’s being told.

“What do you mean?”

“Like- I just end up here. I dunno why or fuckin’- fucking how it happens. But it does and it sucks. The thing is though,” Frank adds, flickering into complete focus for just a moment and making Gerard’s eyes cross from the strain. “I never died.”

“What?”

Something drops in Gerard’s stomach.

If he’s not dead then all that research Gerard’s done was for nothing. And as far as he knows, no living person can just eject their soul or spirit. He may be getting answers but Gerard’s honestly just getting more confused the longer this conversation goes on.

“I never died,” Frank repeats, emphasising the words so that they stick in Gerard’s mind. “I have a life, a job and music, but my spirit or some shit- my ghost maybe- goes on a fuckin’ joyride sometimes.”

“How- how does that even-” he pauses, realizing that he truly has no idea how that would even be possible. 

From the look on Frank’s face, he clearly doesn’t have an explanation either.

“But you follow the same rules as spirits do. Dead ones I mean,” Gerard insists, because there’s no way a living person could just have their soul exist away from their body. 

It doesn’t make sense, shouldn’t be possible.

Everything he knows about magic, which again isn’t everything but it’s still enough, says that this isn’t possible. 

Shit. Gerard needs to call Mikey; he’s bound to know something or have some sort of explanation for all this.

“Yeah,” Frank agrees, his form beginning to fade badly once again. “It- it happens without my control. And I’m learning how to do things, like cleaning and- and interacting with you, but I still can’t- can’t figure out what pulls- pulls me back or makes me like this in the first place.”  
Frank is truly fading now, even his words flickering in and out as Gerard begins to see the outlines of the couch that Frank is standing in front of. It’s like he’s becoming fully transparent. 

Gerard realizes that he’s never actually watched Frank disappear before, it’s always just been a sudden absence. But right now it’s like he’s fighting to stay, fighting to talk for just a bit longer.

Ray’s not here yet but Gerard knows that Frank won’t last long enough to talk to him. Not today.

“Go home, get some rest,” he tells him instead, watching the way Frank’s shoulders sag.

He looks so relieved but there’s a hesitance too. 

“I- dunno when I’ll be back-”

“It’s okay. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

There’s no response as Frank disappears completely.

~~_________________________________~~  
“So he just left?” Ray asks once he gets to Gerard’s apartment, 

He’s made the trip, on Gerard’s insistence, only to learn that Frank hadn’t stayed to meet him.

To make things worse, Ray’s literally soaking wet, dripping icy rain drops down onto the welcome mat just inside of Gerard’s door. 

He feels absolutely horrible for making Ray come all this way for nothing, in the freezing rain no less.

But it’s not like it's his fault. Frank had been exhausted and, if Gerard’s understanding what he said correctly, he really has no control of when he comes and goes other than having to leave when he expends too much of his strength. 

That thought makes Gerard worry, a pit of dread beginning to form in his stomach as his mind wanders. 

If Frank’s not dead yet then that means he can still die.

And since Frank’s alive, using up too much of his energy talking and interacting with Gerard could seriously hurt him. Kill him even. 

That’s the other thing that’s eating him up about this, he and Frank are both at a loss as to what’s actually going on. 

Maybe Gerard’s worrying to much. Maybe if Frank gets too exhausted he’ll just sleep for a bit and then will be fine. 

Besides, you’re supposed to look on the bright side of things right?

“No Frank?” Ray prompts, pulling Gerard from his thoughts. 

He manages an apologetic smile, which he hopes is sincere looking, and nods slowly.

“Yeah, it’s a long story if you wanna stick around. I’ve got some tea if you want something warm? Probably coffee too but I haven't been to the store yet so I dunno. But if you want to go home that’s okay too ‘cause I know I like dragged you out for nothing and-”  
“Gerard. Gerard,” Ray interrupts him, his hand coming to rest on Gerard’s shoulder.

The touch is icy, the cold and damp seeping through Gerard’s sweater and sending unpleasant goosebumps down his arm.

“Tea would be great,” he says with a warm smile.

So Gerard just nods, his mind running through all of the ways he could try and explain this to his friend. It’s hard though because not even him and Frank are sure.

Ray ends up grabbing some basic english breakfast while Gerard decides on a cup of his favorite chai spice.The steaming mug feels amazing against his hands as it fights away the chill. Ray sighs, quiet but contently, into the mug he’s holding, so Gerard’s fairly sure he’s enjoying the warmth just as much.

Once again, as the two of them sit in comfortable silence, Gerard’s mind drifts.

He thinks about the cold, about the odd feeling of the warmth returning to his fingers.

Again he finds himself thinking of Frank, something Gerard does rather often these days. 

He’s not a real ghost. 

It’s a strange thought on it’s own, especially when he thinks about how Frank has similar abilities to a “normal” ghost.

But even though Frank’s not a normal ghost, he still quite literally drains the heat from Gerard’s apartment every time he appears. Because it’s the very end of fall, Thanksgiving is just around the corner, the temperature outside is bitter and provides little help in warming his apartment back up. 

Now, normally, Gerard just bundles himself up beforehand and prepares to freeze his ass off for a few hours until his shitty old thermostat is able to bring the temperature back up once Frank leaves. The blanket is still on his shoulders from earlier but he does feel rather bad because Ray is clearly freezing, even with the tea in hand.

As the two of them relax for a few more moments on the couch, Gerard finally thinks to pass Ray one of the blankets that was folded and waiting for them there.

“Thanks,” he tells Gerard with a nod, maneuvering the blanket to cover everything but his shoulders and head.  
“Frank steals the heat, I forgot to tell you that.”  
“He does?” Ray asks while taking a careful sip of his tea.

The room around them is silent as Gerard thinks over his response, the world seeming as frozen as the air.

“Yeah. Like- it’s normal for ghosts to make rooms more cold when they’re there. It’s like- uh shit- how’d Mikey put it? It’s like they use the energy, or heat I guess, from the air to help them stay here.”  
“It’s as cold in here as it is outside,” Ray remarks, “how long did Frank stay this time?”

“Almost an hour? But he had to leave.”  
“He say why?” he asks but there’s no bite to his words.

Gerard assumes Ray’s just being curious, rather than him being actually upset that he walked here for nothing. 

“Well actually…”

Gerard does his best to try and explain Frank’s situation, even though he’s still fuzzy on some bits. Like how the hell this sort of thing can even happen. Or how long Frank’s been having his soul just, in his words, eject itself without his consent or control. 

Thankfully, Ray listens the entire time Gerard fumbles through his explanation. He nods often, looking lost in thought. 

“So- uh, yeah. He’s a real person, like alive, but he can visit me too,” Gerard finishes, taking an anxiety driven sip of his tea to fill the awkward space of time while Ray thinks it over.

“Astral projection. Huh,” Ray says at last, his tone actually making Gerard think that he believes him. 

He’s never heard of astral projection, though. It sounds almost familiar, like the tune to a song you heard when you were very small. He recognizes it but can’t place anything else about it.

“I mean, obviously it’s possible but there’s no documented cases or anything. And the person behaving like an actual ghost, which makes sense because a ghost is just a dead person’s spirit, is so freaking cool man!”

Maybe Gerard should have gone to Ray sooner because from the sound of things, he knows what he’s talking about. Or at the least, he’s got a better explanation that anything Gerard or Frank could have come up with.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Definitely,” Ray says again, nodding sharply. “Next time he pops up, get his cell number or something.”

Gerard laughs, finding the idea amusing for some reason, but he agrees all the same. 

By the next time he sees Frank, Gerard might just be able to talk to him in person. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, answers have been gotten and we have some form of a plot happening. Sorta haha. Yeah, tomorrow will be the last part of this little three-shot (is that even a thing??).  
Thank you all for reading!!!! leave a comment if you want, or even a kudos. They all mean the word to me!  
Also, if you have any scenes or ships that you wanna see, feel free to leave a suggestion! If it's something I'm willing to do, I'll add it to my prompt list!  
<3


	8. Ghost of You (Part III)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
* extra anxiety in this one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening everyone!  
Tonight's the last part of this mini-series and tomorrow I'll be back with posting true one-shots!  
I gotta thank @pauladiazcruz for helping me figure out how the hell to end this and also for helping me edit things! <3
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!!!

It takes three weeks this time before Frank re-appears.

Gerard is in the middle of a well earned day off, spending his day lazing on the couch with a pizza arms reach on the coffee table. The TV is playing his favorite movie series and he sometimes mouths along to the words in between bites. Since he’s bundled up in about eight separate blankets, he doesn’t feel the temperature of the room drop suddenly. 

Gerard does however take notice when Frank materializes right in front of him. His back is to the couch as his form slowly takes shape, so he’s not looking at Gerard. Frank lets out a little giggle, bouncing up on his feet.

“Hey Frankie!” Gerard calls, a smile coming to his face at the sight of his friend.

“Shit!”

He startles before spinning around to face Gerard with a tiny, exasperated smile.

“Sorry! Sorry. I just- I thought you knew I was here,” he says, feeling guilty for scaring Frank so badly. 

Frank takes a deep, calming breath and his smile brightens.

“Don’t worry about it,” he tells Gerard nonchalantly. “Sorry it took me fucking forever to come back.”

Shaking his head, Gerard reaches over to grab the remote and pause the TV.

“It’s not your fault. I was getting worried though. Are you sure you’re alright?”  
He takes in Frank for a moment, carefully looking over him to see if there’s any sign of the exhaustion that was there before. 

Of course, Frank is still tiny, swallowed up by the oversized hoodie, but he looks fine from what Gerard can tell. His eyes are bright and his smile energetic, so that must mean he’s gotten some rest. 

It has been three weeks, so really Gerard would have been very worried if he wasn’t so healthy looking now.

Despite the way Gerard can see the definite blur to Frank’s form, he almost looks to be in the same room as him. His hair, for once, isn’t hidden completely by the hood of his jacket. It’s long, reaching just past his chin and the fringe suggests Frank has a bit of a rebellious streak. 

Perhaps unconsciously, feeling Gerard’s attention on his hair, Frank tucks a longer strand behind his ear. Gerard has to take a deep breath to steady himself as he realizes that there’s a tattoo inked onto Frank’s skin. It’s dark, clearly still new.

It’s some form of insect, the legs and head really the only part he can see. 

And, yeah, sure he’s absently noticed that Frank was attractive, his eyes always seeming pulling Gerard in, but like- he has a tattoo too?! 

It really suits him though, Gerard thinks. The dark ink against his slightly tanned skin is a nice contrast. Suddenly he wishes that the hoodie Frank was constantly in was gone. If only so Gerard could see what other nice little surprises Frank has.

Is that a weird thought for someone he’s only talked to a few times?

Gerard isn’t sure but he does know that he feels… something for Frank. At the very least he wants to get to know him better.

“What?” Frank asks, catching Gerard’s stare and looking down at himself. “I got mustard on my jacket or some shit?” 

Laughing a little, Gerard just shakes his head.

“No, you idiot,” he says fondly. “You just look better.”  
“Thanks?”

“Shut up,” Gerard retorts with no actual anger. 

Though his face is heating up and he has no idea why. 

“Lazy day I see,” Frank says, probably to change the topic, gesturing to the mess Gerard’s made of the living room.

Okay, so yeah there’s like four separate mugs laying scattered around the room and he’s fairly certain he dropped a pizza crust somewhere, but it’s not like it’s that bad. 

“Yeah…” he says a little defensive.

He’s been trying to do better with keeping things clean and if he wants one day to be a slob there shouldn’t be an issue. 

“Not judging,” Frank amends, though he’s laughing as he raises his hands in surrender. “It’s actually kinda adorable. Plus, you’re like fuckin’ swallowed by those blankets.”  
Gerard glances down at himself, eyeing the cozy blankets that are keeping the chill away from him. Never mind the pajama pants and hoodie he’s got on as well.  
He gets cold easily, no big deal.

“You’re one to talk Frank. That hoodie is bigger than you are!”

“Hey!” Frank gasps with mock offense.

“Sorry, it’s almost as big as you are.”

They’re both laughing so for once Gerard doesn’t worry about Frank actually being upset with him.

“So,” Frank says suddenly, his tone serious now. “Do you still want me to talk to your friend?”  
Oh shit. 

How could Gerard have just forgotten about the one thing he’s been thinking about constantly for the past couple of months.

Yeah, these occasional visits from Frank are nice, more than nice really, but Gerard longs to be able to actually talk to him. In person. 

To be able to share a pizza with him and make him sit through the entire Avengers movie series with him. He could show Frank his favorite coffee place down the street and sit there for hours, just sipping their drinks and talking. 

“Yeah, yeah lemme text him real quick,” he says, already taking his phone from his pocket. 

Ray replies instantly, for which Gerard is grateful.

“He’s on his way.”

“Good. I’ve got a better connection today but I don’t wanna risk staying too long ya know? I slept for like 15 hours after the last time I overdid it,” Frank explains shyly, his hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket.

“No it’s fine. I understand. Ray lives a like- 10 minute walk from here so he shouldn’t be long.”

They spend the wait catching up. 

Gerard tells him about the newest Avenger movie that’s coming out soon, of which Frank somehow has no idea about. Has he been living under a freaking rock?!

“You’ve seriously never seen any of the movies?”

“Nope. I don’t really watch movies that much. And when I do it’s normally like horror or something,” Frank replies, shrugging as if unconcerned by missing arguably the best movie series in existence.

Or at least it is, in Gerard’s opinion.

“Okay, that’s it, I am forcing you to watch all the movies either the next time you pop in or when you’re here in person.”

Frank laughs, his head tilting back as his face scrunches up. 

“Yeah. Okay sure. But I pick the food,” he compromises and Gerard makes no move to argue.

Frank’s an amazing cook so Gerard has no doubt that whatever he decides on will be better than delivery pizza. Though there’s also the pleasant thought of the two of them sharing a large pizza. They could cocoon themselves in blankets on the couch, Frank looks small enough to stay constantly cold, and get sick off of greasy food and soda.

“Deal. So, you can see what I’ve been up to. What about you?”

“Oh, uh…” Frank’s face falls, his beautiful, forest green eyes growing troubled and deep with sadness. “Nothing really. I- I uh... lost my job so I’ve been just kinda… hanging out ya know?”

“What? Oh Frankie that’s horrible. What happened?”  
“I uh- well I told you I slept like almost an entire day after I saw you last. But I had to call in to work and ask for an extra day off ‘cause I still felt like crap and- and they just- they told me not to come back.”

His voice cracks at the end and Gerard can see just how big of a deal this is for him. Frank’s trying to play it off too but Gerard notices how wet his eyes seem all of a sudden before he’s quickly swiping a sleeve over them and removing the evidence.

“Shit,” Gerard breathes, trying to find something to say. “That’s… it’s just-”  
Gerard doesn’t know what to say to him. Because it's not like there’s anything he can do about it; nothing he can say can fix this. 

“Yeah, but I mean at least now I have more time to do music I guess,” Frank tries, something close to a smile forming on his face but it’s too strained.

Seeing him so clearly torn up about this breaks Gerard’s heart and he wishes that he could help somehow. A million thoughts swirl in his mind, scenario after scenario of how Frank might be struggling. He mentioned he was 23 when they’d first met and Gerard had gotten the impression that he was living on his own.

If that’s the case, then is Frank going hungry?

Even worse is the fear that he’s not going to have a place to stay, that he’ll end up on the streets or-.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he pleads, voice cracking once again.  
“I- Frank I-”  
“I’m okay. My mom’s helping me out until I can find something else it just- it sucks.”  
It’s a huge understatement, the situation clearly bothering Frank more than he’s letting Gerard see. But before he can think of anything else to say, there’s a quick knock on the door.

Frank looks up, startling once again, as Gerard goes to let Ray in.

“Hey,” he greets, smiling genuinely as he closes the door behind his best friend.

Thankfully, it seems like it’s not raining outside for once. He wasn’t sure until he saw Ray but the clear lack of soaked rain gear means it must be a dry day. Gerard does have windows but he just always has them covered with blackout curtains. 

“Hey Gee. He still here?”  
Ray tuggs off his beanie and stuffs it in his pocket, though he keeps the jacket on and zipped up tightly. The air of Gerard’s apartment is definitely as cold as it is outside then.

“Yep,” Gerard agrees enthusiastically, guiding Ray into the living room.

Frank’s right where he left him, standing by the couch with his hands tucked into his pocket. He’s got a wide smile though as Ray comes over.

They just stare at each other for a moment, long enough for Gerard to begin to worry.

“I’m uh- I’m Frank,” Frank tries, taking a hand out of his pocket and extending it towards Ray.

Instantly, Ray’s face lights up and he shakes his head as if to clear it.

“Sorry, I was being rude,” he explains before carefully shaking Frank’s hand. “Ray.”

Frank flickers as they break contact, his expression growing tired for just a moment before he’s smiling again.

“ ‘s nice to meet you. You and Gee seem really close.”

“Yeah, we’ve known each other for ages,” Ray agrees rubbing his hand to probably bring the warmth back from touching Frank.

Gerard watches Frank a moment, concern pooling in his gut. Frank was definitely affected by the contact. He can tell because his form is slightly thinner, a bit more hazy around the edges too, but overall Frank looks fine. 

“So, you like- know how to fix me then?” Frank prompts as Gerard and Ray sit down on the couch.

“Well, I know what’s happening to you. It’s not necessarily something to fix though.”  
“What do you mean?”

“Basically, I think that you have an ability that you didn’t know was there. Astral projection.”  
“An ability? You mean like magic or something?” he asks, brows knit in confusion.

“Yeah. Normally it’s a lot more subtle than this but yes, that’s my educated guess on what’s going on.”  
“But- but wait,” Frank holds his hands up. “Why now? This shit like- just started a few months ago. I go to sleep or lose focus and boom! Here I am in the middle of Gerard’s apartment.”

“Well, typically there are rules and shit to this kinda thing but they’re not strict. Like magic for the most part runs in families, parents have it so, so do their kids. But you get times when the kids have no abilities at all, other than a vague sense of energies maybe. That’s me, by the way.”

Gerard’s mind hangs on that. He hadn’t known Ray’s family had magic…

“And sometimes kids develop abilities without it ever being in their family at all.”

“That’s my brother,” Gerard chimes in, relieved to do something other than just listen to the conversation. “He’s gotta learn it all on his own ‘cause no one in our family can help him.”  
Ray nods, “Yeah, so that’s my guess as to what you’re going through. Surprise magic basically.”  
“Okay… so like this isn’t something I can fix?”  
“No. But I mean you can learn how to control it. That’d leave the uncertainty part out of it,” Ray supplies kindly, in the same gentle voice he uses for Gerard when he’s having a particularly bad day.

It seems to work for Frank too. He visibly relaxes, shoulders dropping as he looks over to Gerard.

“Can you guys help me control this then?” he asks, his voice so soft and unsure that Gerard finds himself nodding before Frank’s even finished talking.

“Absolutely. I’m sure Mikey could give us some pointers and there’s bound to be something on the internet to help.”  
“Yeah,” Ray agrees, “of course we’ll help you. But,” both Gerard and Frank look over to him, confused. “But, it’s gotta be in person. I- we can’t help you when you’re not in physical form.”

“Shit.”  
“What is it?” Gerard asks, suddenly and irrationally afraid that Frank doesn’t want to actually meet him.

“I sorta don’t know where you guys are.”

“But you like- come straight to my apartment?”  
“Yeah but it’s almost… instinctual. I can’t go anywhere else. I’m just drawn here,” Frank explains helplessly.

“So you aren’t aware of how far you’ve traveled or where you are, you simply appear here?” He nods, answering Ray without words. “Well that’s okay.”

“How is that okay?”  
Gerard agrees, how is Frank not knowing where he is right now okay?

“We’re in a little town called Belleville, New Jersey. Where do you live. Is it close?”

Oh. Gerard’s following Ray’s train of thought now as he waits on Frank’s answer.

“New York, as in like the city,” Frank tells them, his voice layered in relief.  
Gerard feels the same. They’re close by, maybe a few hours apart at the most.

“Good,” Ray says enthusiastically. “How soon do you think you could make it here?”  
“Uh…”  
Frank’s face falls at this and Gerard remembers how he said he’d lost his job. He probably doesn’t have money to drive, let alone catch a flight if it’s far enough. The idea hits him instantly and he’s speaking before it’s even finished forming in his mind.  
“We’ll come to you.”

Ray just blinks at him, his confusion clear but Gerard just ignores it. He focuses on the relief that’s pooling on Frank’s face.

“You’d do that?”

“Of course. I need a vacation anyway. Right Ray?”  
He knows he’s won Ray over with that one. Ray is constantly telling Gerard he works too much. 

“I hate you,” Ray says seriously.

“Sure you do.”

Gerard laughs a little, already making plans to clean out his car and deciding which clothes he should bring. There’s no way in hell that he’s flying and really, Gerard doesn’t mind driving. It’ll be fun. Just him and Ray and a few hours of good music and pleasant conversation to keep them entertained.  
________________________________________

New York is nothing like Belleville. 

It’s loud and noisy, so much so that simply walking down the street is enough to make Gerard shake with anxiety. There’s too many people, everyone everywhere all at once. He fears they’re watching him, judging the lost look on his and Ray’s faces as they try and find the apartment complex Frank lives in.

“Gee,” Ray says, seeing his discomfort and connecting their hands. “Are you good?”

It has the intended effect, grounding Gerard enough to where he’s able to form something close to a sentence.

“Yeah. yeah I just- I just wanna find Frank.”  
“We will. According to GPS, we’re almost there.”

It’s another two blocks until they get to Frank’s but it takes the better part of an hour for them to do so. The sidewalks are packed with people, everyone intent on their own agenda. Gerard gets pushed, shoved, stepped on- you name it.

If Ray wasn’t holding onto him, or him onto Ray, then Gerard is certain that the crowds would have swallowed him whole. He would have drowned in the sea of people.

But finally, finally, they reach the right building. It’s tall and looming, stories upon stories reaching up high into the skyline. 

Dizzy now, Gerard lets Ray do something with the buzzer. Someone that might be Frank answers, though Gerard’s not sure because the street is loud. 

Walking up the steps and inside is a blur, a blur of faces and people and Gerard knows he’s probably squeezing Ray’s hand too tightly but he can’t bring himself to let go. 

Frank answers the door, Gerard not even realizing that they’re standing there until the dark, grey door swings open. He looks exactly the same as in his spirit form- disheveled and tired.

But he’s smiling so brightly that the corners of his eyes are wrinkled as he’s waving them inside. The moment the door is closed, Ray is turning around and wrapping Frank in a tight hug like they’ve known each other their whole lives.

Gerard can see Frank melt into the embrace, his smile gentle and relaxed as they pull apart.

Frank’s eyes meet Gerard’s but he doesn’t move to hug him. And Gerard wants to, rather desperately if he’s honest, but there’s something holding him back. Maybe it’s the way he’s suddenly lost in the way Frank’s looking at him.

He looks genuinely relieved, excited even, and it makes something unexplainable bubble up in Gerard’s chest. It’s a good thing though, a pleasant, if unfamiliar, feeling.

“I-I uh-” 

“Hi Gee,” Frank says, likely noticing Gerard’s struggle.  
This shouldn’t feel different but it does. It feels like meeting him for the first time and Gerard should hug him because he’s right fucking there. Frank is literally right in front of him and solid and alive. There’s no consequences to hugging him. Frank won’t be drained.

But before he can get his feet to move, Ray’s already talking to Frank about what they plan to do.

Most of it goes over Gerard’s head, even though he tries desperately to understand. Again, he knows the basics, not whatever it is that Ray’s suggesting. 

But Ray had bugged his family for tips and helpful things that they could use for Frank. Gerard hadn’t been expecting much but they’d received a flood of information and knowledge. Ray’s family knows their shit and for a moment Gerard had wondered why they hadn’t gone to them first.

The way Ray had looked though, the clear sadness on his face as he’d talked to his mother on speaker phone, was enough for Gerard to understand. He might have grown up without magic but Ray had been raised with it, only to find out that he couldn’t do it himself. The thought alone makes Gerard’s chest ache and so he has no clue how it must have felt for Ray.

All the same, his family was a huge help. Mikey had only really given them good wishes, still confused as to how his own abilities worked and therefore unable to be of true help. They have a small corner store notebook that they’d quickly jotted down the mass of information onto. It’s tucked under Gerard’s arm, colorful little tabs sticking out to bookmark things they felt were more important.

“-sicaly, you just gotta practice,” Ray says as Gerard tunes back into the conversation.

He looks over to Gerard, silently asking for the book. Handing it over, Gerard watches as Ray turns to a page and pushes it into Frank’s hands.

“This is sorta the headspace you gotta go into. It’s different for everyone but this is the basics ya know? Calm and relaxed, preferably some place familiar and safe. That kinda thing.”

Frank nods without looking up, his attention fixed firmly on the pages in his hands. 

“Okay. I wanna try.”

“Right now?” Gerard asks, making both of them turn to look at him. 

“I mean, I got plenty of sleep last night like you told me to,” Frank starts, looking over to Ray. “and I've already had breakfast. Plus you guys drove all the way here for me so we might as well get started right away right?”  
It’s good logic and Ray seems to agree.

So Gerard finds himself watching quietly from the corner of Frank’s living room as Ray tries to teach him how to work his power. It’s slow going, that’s for sure.  
The first three hours, nothing happens. 

Frank tries to get into the right mindset, struggling at first before finally becoming relaxed and easy. He sits on the couch now, eyes closed and legs bent underneath him.

Gerard watches him breathe, the way his body moves with each full inhale. He’s been completely still for almost twenty minutes now, their longest stretch yet. Ray catches his eye, nodding once to say that they’re finally ready to try. 

“Frank?” Ray asks softly. 

He gets a very quiet humm but Frank doesn’t seem to move at all. 

Ray then begins leading him through the process, or what should be the process. It’s mostly vague, just a sense of feeling his own aura or something and willing it to be projected. But all they have to go on is that little scribbled book in Ray’s hands so it’s not like Gerard can do anything to make this easier.

In fact, he feels positively useless, leaning against the wall and just watching Ray and Frank work so hard. The room does get cold however on Frank’s sixth try.

Gerard watches his breath crystallize in front of him as he wraps an arm around himself to try and hold some of the warmth in. 

But Frank is still in his physical form, despite the cold. Gerard watches him sigh heavily, clearly getting frustrated as he sags a little. 

He’s tiring, Gerard can see it in the tension forming along his shoulders and the way his hands shake a bit when Ray hands him a glass of water. 

“Okay, maybe we should call it a night,” Ray begins, using that same diplomatic tone he uses with Gerard so often.

“No! No. I almost had it. We can’t stop now,” Frank protests, setting the glass down on the table and nodding sharply as if to tell them to continue.

“Frank, are you sure? You’ve made a lot of progress already and-”  
“We’re so close,” he interrupts again, making Gerard smile despite himself at the fire dancing in Frank’s eyes. 

It’s the same intensity he noticed that first night when he’d called Frank a kid. That burning energy and fight that Gerard is starting to see more often. But it’s not a bad thing, it’s actually really, really attractive. 

Shit… does that mean-

“Fine,” Ray agrees at last, rolling his eyes even as he picks up the book again. “Relax Frank. See if you can find something to focus on, like a sound in the room or a feeling.”  
This time, Frank goes still quickly. The little crease to his forehead the only telling of his concentration. Slowly, the temperature drops once again.

Gerard shivers but doesn’t take his eyes off Frank. Nothing happens, at least not obviously.

But the temperature falls further until Gerard’s certain that it’s below zero as his fingers begin to tingle. Then, all at once, Frank falls forward.

Ray rushes to catch him, book hitting the floor with a thud as his arms wrap around his shoulders to keep him from falling. It’s impossible for Gerard to tell if Frank’s passed out from pushing himself too far or he’s actually managed to do it.

For a long moment there’s nothing but quiet.

Oh shit… Frank normally appears in Gerard’s appartment, said he was drawn there, so what if he’s there right now?

Before the thought can take hold and truly make Gerard panic about Frank being there alone, something catches his eye from the corner of the room. Slowly, Frank’s spirit shifts into view. 

It’s definitely hazy but it’s also somehow much stronger here as well. He has a moment long enough to think that maybe they were wrong, maybe Frank’s not tied to the apartment, then Frank’s spirit is laughing.

“Holy shit it worked guys!” he exclaims, walking over to watch Ray lay his unoccupied body down onto the couch. “Thanks dude.”

“You almost fell face first. Don’t thank me.”

Frank laughs again before turning to Gerard.

“I did it,” he says again, much more softly than before.

Though his quiet tone isn’t from exhaustion this time and it brings that warm, pleasant feeling back into Gerard’s chest.

“I knew you could.”  
Frank smiles, his eyes getting bright again.

“Now we just gotta get you back into your body,” Ray says then, thumbing through the book once again.

“Can’t I just hang out for a while? I worked hard for this shit!” 

“Oh hush,” Ray scolds with a chuckle, causing Gerard to laugh as well. “You’re already gonna be exhausted, doing this manually is harder than it just sorta happening. Don’t waste all your strength on your first try.”

Frank grumbles something but goes to stand by Ray all the same. He reads over Ray’s shoulder, chewing on his bottom lip in concentration. 

“Okay,” Ray says, presumably after he’s read over the page. “ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Fuckin’ weirdo,” Gerard jabs, making Frank laugh breathily and Ray glare at him for being distracting.

Frank’s laugh is worth it though.

It takes a long few moments once again for anything to happen after Ray explains what Frank is supposed to do. Then, just as slowly as he appeared, Frank fades out.

Gerard holds his breath, taking a few steps closer to the couch as he watches Frank’s body for any signs that he’s waking.

He doesn’t move. 

“Ray,” Gerard says desperately, fear beginning to climb into his throat and suffocate him.

“Give him a moment. It’s not easy.”  
“But- but he’s-”  
“He’s breathing Gee, see his chest moving? He’s okay,” Ray assures, smiling gently to Gerard.

And yeah, Frank is breathing but Gerard hadn’t paid enough attention to see if he’d stopped earlier when he’d activated his ability.

There’s a low groan from the couch and Gerard’s eyes flick suddenly back to Frank. He watches as he stirrs slowly into consciousness, first his head lulling a little to the side and then his eyes fluttering. Frank fights to wake up, that Gerard can see clearly, but it takes time.

He moves over beside him, crouching down next to the couch with increasing worry the longer it takes Frank to come back.

When finally, finally, Frank’s eyes open and he manages to push himself up onto an elbow. Gerard’s moving before a single thought crosses his mind, already pressing his lips to Frank’s.

The kiss is gentle though, soft and learning and that feeling explodes in Gerard’s chest again. Frank’s lips against his own feel like tiny little sparks of that feeling, soft shivers running through him. And Frank’s actually kissing him back, just barely deepening the kiss.

They separate soon after, Gerard’s face flushed and his breathing heavy as he tries to catch his breath. But Frank’s the same way, except he has a softness to his smile that Gerard hasn’t seen before.

“I knew you could do it,” Gerard repeats quietly, not even looking to see if Ray’s still in the room. 

“Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo writing that ending was fun. I may or may not have written this whole thing today after work. I'll never tell.  
Gosh it was so fun though. This is my favorite I've written so far, it's just been flowing (mostly) so smoothly for me and it's been a blast!  
Tomorrow is gonna be a fun upload. I already have this one written and it's short but sweet.  
Thanks for reading dudes! If you want, tell me what you thought!   
<3


	9. Just Think Happy Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
*Anxiety as always  
* brief mention of death. No one dies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO DAY 8!!!  
God this is going by fast! So this one is short and sweet. Thank you as always to @pauladiazcruz for helping me get my shit together. <3  
Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Chapter title is from Headfirst for Halos by My Chemical Romance*

“Oh. My. God.”

Gerard jerks his head up in surprise, nearly dropping the glass bottle that was in his hand in the process.

He tries his best to not look suspicious as Frank takes the final step and his boots hit the cement floor of the basement. Gerard’s breaths feel entirely too loud as he stands here under Frank’s gaze. Because he knows exactly what this looks like, what Frank is probably thinking. But it’s not like he’s doing anything illegal. Mostly.

“What’s uh- what’s all this?” Frank asks, his tone unreadable as he gestures to the rest of the room.

Gerard takes note of the bookcases lining the walls, each filled with age worn novels and guides, the occasional grimoire is not uncommon though. It’s a large collection, one that he can thank his ancestors for. 

Each book he has was passed down for generations and holds the knowledge that each person gained in their lifetime. Truthfully, he’s not a hundred percent sure how old some of the books even are. There’s no printed dates on any of them, no publishing company or copyright like you see today. Most are hand written and very carefully describe whatever spells and rituals were deemed important by the writer. But, despite the fact that he will never know their true age, Gerard knows that they’re ancient. 

It’s a feeling, one that seeps up his arms and into his chest every time he holds one of the oldest books in his collection. 

It’s a sense of age, of countless years and innumerable spells. Of hard work in the original owner’s life. Then, ultimately, their death. He can feel that too.

Holding the books is almost similar to being in contact with their spirits. Like Gerard can feel them but he can’t communicate or anything. 

Which is a shame because he could really use some afterlife advice as his best friend crosses his arms over his chest and waits on Gerard to answer him. 

Alas, it seems there will be no dead ancestors telling him how to fix this. 

“Uh- what- what do you mean?” he tries, attempting to look as inconspicuous as possible.

He doubts he’s doing a very good job.

Frank just scofs and raises an eyebrow, almost as if to say ‘really?’. 

Seeing that playing dumb won’t work in this situation, Gerard sighs and trys to think of a way to explain all of this.

He glances towards the book that rests forgotten on his podium, the open pages displaying a familiar spell. The book is his own, barely even started really, but it’d be a good start for this right?  
“C’mere,” Gerard urges, attempting to wave Frank over.

He gets a skeptical look but Frank does walk over. Good. 

Taking a deep breath, Gerard realizes that he has absolutely no idea of how to start this conversation.  
There’s reasons why he has never shared this part of himself with Frank. Very important reasons. 

For all Gerard knows, Frank could freak and go yelling to the cops. That’d get the hunters on his ass in record time.  
He’d have to move away for sure, try and outrun them. Or, the more likely option, they'll kill him before he even realizes that Frank’s told on him. 

Gerard might be able to fight off a few hunters on his own but if they realized that Mikey was a witch too then they’d truly be screwed. The kid’s only in his third year of practicing; there’s no way he’d be able to defend himself. 

“Gee?”

Frank’s voice is quiet, almost concerned. It snaps Gerard out of his thoughts. Though, he doesn’t answer. Instead he actually looks at the page he’s been staring at for who knows how long.

His own handwriting describes the ingredients and step by step process to the spell he was doing before Frank walked in. The words are shaky on the page but he’d tried his best to make it more neat than normal. Still, he doubts that Frank could read any of it.

“So uh, this is my book,” Gerard begins, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

“Your book?”

“Yeah- yeah uh it’s where I put the- the spells that I use most often and ones that I’ve made that aren’t in my other books. Uh- this one,” he points to the open pages, “is for sleeping. One of my customers is having trouble with nightmares and I make this for her once a week.”  
“And what is it that you’re making right now?”  
Frank doesn’t sound suspicious, thankfully. He sounds more confused but slightly curious at the same time. Gerard decides to count it as a good thing.

“It’s a spell. I uh- I do spells and brews but never curses. They’re not part of white magic unless it’s for a very specific reason. And that’s what I do. White magic I mean.”  
“And white magic is....?” 

“Oh! It’s magic that’s… pure? If that makes sense? No sacrificing chickens or making voodoo dolls or anything. Just my own energy and the natural essence that comes from the ingredients,” Gerard explains, watching for Frank’s reaction

“So you’re like a… witch or something?”

“Yeah,” he takes a deep breath before continuing. 

Gerard’s never told anyone this. He mostly talks only to his family and the other members of their coven. They’d been little, Gerard only in second or third grade, and Mikey had noticed that the other kids in his pre-school didn’t have parents who floated things down off the top shelves of cabinets. It’d taken some explaining but their mom had managed to help the three-year old understand that they were different. Not bad. Just different than the other kids and their families.

Calling on that memory, Gerard nods his head. 

“I’m a witch. We’re not like you’d see on TV though. No green skin or kids in the oven or anything. And it runs in the family. So, my mom’s a witch and so’s my dad, and they gave it to me. But it’s not a bad thing. Just like…,” he pauses, trying to figure out how to word it. “Like a talent I guess? Some people call it their gift but- yeah…”  
“So Mikey’s one too?” 

That makes Gerard smile. His brother’s still new to learning how to use his powers but Gerard couldn’t be more proud of him and the progress he’s already making. Mikey is shaping up to be a strong witch, maybe even as strong as their mother, and Gerard can’t wait to see what he’ll be able to do with a couple more years of practice.

“Yeah. He’s only in his third year, you start actually practicing at 13, but he’s smart. Like freaky smart and we can work together for some really cool shit already.”

Frank nods in understanding, a soft smile on his lips as the tension seems to break all at once. With a wave of relief, Gerard lets out a sigh, realizing that Frank’s not going to call him nuts. He leans a little against the podium, looking down at the page. 

The smile fades from his face as he realizes that Frank might not think he’s crazy but he still very well could call the hunters on him. 

“Frank,” Gerard starts suddenly, shocking him enough to where he jumps. “Sorry. Look uh- there’s a reason that I never told you about this. There’s people out there who hate people like me, think I’m basically the devil manifested into a physical form or some shit. Those kinda people, they kill people like me. They track witches down and they kill us. Horribly.”  
Frank takes a sharp breath, fear spreading in his eyes as he glances nervously towards the open basement door. The light from upstairs spills down, illuminating the room in an offsetting contrast to the candlelight. 

“I have protection spells up constantly,” he assures, noticing how Frank seems to be waiting for hunters to burst through the doorway. ”They keep me safe from anyone accidentally finding us but if someone knows I’m here they won’t do much good.”  
The fear never leaves Frank’s face and maybe, Gerard thinks, that’s a good thing. If Frank’s scared of the hunters then maybe he and Mikey will be safe. 

“So you have to keep this a secret. You can’t tell anyone or even talk about it outside of this house unless I’m there and I say it’s okay.”  
Frank nods but Gerard needs more, he needs proof that Frank’s going to keep him hidden. It’s not just his life on the line. If they find him, they’ll find Mikey too and then possibly even the entire community. There’s hundreds of lives on the line and Gerard’s only barely able to keep his voice from wavering as he begins to speak again.

“Frank you have to promise. Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

Looking startled, Frank opens his mouth only to close it a second later. But then he nods determinantly, looking up at Gerard with ernest eyes.

“I swear, Gee. I’ll keep your secret safe.”  
Gerard lets out a deep breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. Lifting his hat and running a hand through his hair, he tries to wait for the tension to dispel. It’d gotten thick again, almost tangible in the air due to his own anxiety about this whole situation. He gets now why the others in his community tend to keep to themselves. 

“How’d I never figure this out? You’re like shit at keeping secrets,” Frank says at last, a smile worming its way onto his face and Gerard finds himself mirroring it.

“I dunno.”

“I think it was the pointy hat,” Frank continues, pointing a finger towards Gerard’s head.

Oh. Shit.

Instnatly his face burns because with all the worries about hunters and death and shit, Gerard had complelty forgotten about the fucking pointy witch hat he was wearing.  
“I- I have a very good explanation,” he manages, feeling his face heat up even further as Frank tries to conceal a laugh.

“You mean that’s not standard issue?”  
“No!” he exclaims, hot with embarrassment. “Look, when we were little, Mikey was convinced that this was what made the spells work.” He gestures to the hat awkwardly before continuing. “Mom would wear one whenever she casted just to humor him ‘cause he was small and it was kinda adorable ya know?”  
Frank nods, still fighting back a smirk.  
The bastard.

“When I- when I started to practice, Mikey was like 10. He knew that the hats weren’t real magic but he got me one as a gift when I had my first practice. I wore it and it just kinda… stuck.”

There’s a beat of silence before Frank cracks up, his eyes squinting shut as he laughs deeply. 

A flash of hurt hits deep in Gerard’s chest.  
It may be a silly hat but it reminds him of his brother, how sweet he’s always been and how much he means to Gerard. The hat was a gift and it honestly means a lot to him. And Frank’s just laughing at him.

His face burns still but for an entirely different reason now. 

“Hey,” Frank tries but he begins giggling again. 

Gerard can’t even look up at him, can’t bare to see whatever judgement is clouding his eyes. 

It’s not that dumb. Lots of people have sentimental things that they wear when they do magic. Except, a lot of them probably don’t use a piece of a Halloween costume from Walmart. But there’s actual logic behind it and if Gerard could ignore the way his chest aches he might be able to explain that to Frank.

“Hey,” Frank’s voice is serous now and Gerard manages to look up into the hazel eyes watching him. “Look I- I didn’t mean to make fun of you. It’s a nice hat dude, I swear.”  
Somehow, this doesn’t help and Gerard has to look back down before Frank can see the tears beginning to pool in his eyes.

Maybe this is why no one really tells non-magics about this sorta thing. 

Sentimental items can help a lot in spell casting and no one has even batted an eye at him until Frank. And it hurts that his best friend, that the person he thought was his best friend, would be so quick to laugh in his face. 

“Gee?”

He scrubs his eyes, compelling the stupid tears to fuck off, but doesn’t look up. Truthfully, Gerard kinda wants Frank to leave. 

The sleeping drought that he was trying to make still needs to be completed or his customer won’t be happy. And getting distracted by Frank is a sure-fire way of him not getting paid this week. 

He mostly just wants this to be over though.

“It kinda suits you,” Frank adds gently.

There’s no teasing in his voice and Gerard allows himself to look back up. 

Frank’s smiling at him, eyes gentle and apologetic.  
“It just means a lot to me Frank and you fuckin’ laughed at it,” Gerard admits, more venom in his words than intended.

“I know. I’m an asshole. Please forgive me?” 

He does that stupid pouty face, the one where his eyes could rival Disney princesses’ with how big they are as he sticks out his bottom lip ever so slightly. But there’s actual regret in his eyes as well and Gerard must really be a sucker because he already forgives him.

“It’s fine,” he assures with a sigh, unable to hide his smile as Frank shouts and tackles him in a hug.  
“It was the cauldron actually,” Frank tells him as they pull apart. 

“What?”

“What made me realize you were a witch or somethin’. And yeah- I mean, you’re weird, but you’re not ‘pretend to be a witch in my basement’ weird,” he teases, earning a playful shove from Gerard. “But seriously, the first thing I noticed was the cauldron...Which is now smoking a little. Is it supposed to do that?”  
“What?” Gerad asks before his mind catches up. “Oh. Shit!” 

Spinning around, he finds that it is, in fact, smoking. Quickly waving his hand to put out the fire, Gerard tries to fan the smoke away from his face. He’s not sure how he didn’t smell it before.  
Burned herbs never smell good, especially not now. 

“I take it that it’s not supposed to do that?” 

“Oh fuck off,” Gerard spits back but it’s teasing and he’s got a smile on his face. “You distract me asshole.”  
“Is it salvagable?” 

“Nope. Burned to a crisp.”  
“Shit,” Frank breathes, looking remorseful and slightly guilty. “Sorry.”  
“It’s fine. I just gotta make it again once this cools off and I clean it out. If you want,” he adds, “ you can watch this time?”

Frank’s face lights up and he nods eagerly. 

It takes forever, Frank asking questions about every single ingredient and step as he works through the spell a second time today. But it’s not tedious. Gerard finds it rather nice actually, having someone to teach.  
Mikey’s being taught by their mom so Gerard never gets to give him lessons. And it’s sorta like teaching a little kid with Frank, but in a good way.

He’s just so... excited about everything, every spark and every word of the enchantment. 

Maybe Gerard should have told Frank sooner. 

Frank leaves that night with a smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed!! You guys are the best, see you tomorrow!!


	10. But You'll Just Never Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah day 9. This is going by so fast holy crap!  
I gotta thank @pauladiazcruz for being awesome and helping me with this one as always!  
Hope you all enjoy!  
*Chapter title is from Planetary Go by My Chem.*

“Come on, lets go upstairs,” Mikey suggests, nodding his head towards the stairway just in front of them.

“Wait- you mean the half-rotted stairs that lead to the dark, creepy as hell, and probably haunted attic?”  
“Yep.”

There’s a pause where Gerard just stares at him a long moment, waiting for how dumb of an idea this is to click in. “What?” Mikey presses, clearly not getting the same vibes from the dark shadows of the attic that seem to send chills down into Gerard’s bones.

Gerard can sense it when he looks up. It’s in the way the ceiling seems to open and nothing but darkness, cobwebs, and a distinct dust smell lies beyond. At least, if he’s lucky that’s all that will be up there. 

There’s a… well he’s not sure how to word it really. It’s not quite a presence but there is definitely something up there. And Gerard has no plans to find out what it is.

“We don’t need to go up there,” Gerard counters instead of voicing his fears. “I doubt I have anything up there anyway.”

“Gee.”

“C’mon, Mikey. It’s givin’ me the creeps.”

Mikey sighs deeply, though he does glance up for a moment as if to search for whatever demons Gerard is convinced are there.

“You sleep in the basement, the scariest part of the house dude, why is the attic any different?”

“I-”

He trails off as he realizes that he’s not sure.  
“It’s just… got something wrong,” he tries instead. “Like I can sense it, Mikey. This is the part of the horror movie when the dumb blond goes into the creepy room and gets murdered. And I’m not blond and I’m definitely not dumb enough to go up into an obviously haunted attic,” Gerard finishes defensively, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Dude.”  
“What?” he demands, annoyance slipping out more than he’d intended.  
He’s actually not mad at his brother but he just… wishes he’d understand that Gerard really does not want to go up those steps. Something’s not right. 

“Fine. I’ll go. Your scaredy ass can stay down here.”  
Gerard mumbles an ‘you’re an asshole’ but doesn’t protest as Mikey begins climbing the ladder. Each step he takes makes the decaying wood pop and crack, dust and mold filling the air. 

As Mikey gets closer to the top, Gerard does have a selfless moment where he fears for his brother getting killed by whatever demonic spirit might be inhabiting his parents' attic. But it passes quickly.

Besides, Mikey’s the dumbass who willingly went up.

When Mikey is finally at the top, Gerard watches his brother’s figure blend into the shadows. He loses sight of him almost instantly and he’s already feeling hot with anxiety. What if the ghost kills Mikey and then comes after him?

Something thuds loudly, the sound enough to startle Gerard. He ends up biting his tongue when he jumps and has to spend a few minutes trying to keep the tears prickling at his eyes at bay.

Stupid fucking nerves…

Wait. 

That thud had to come from something. Was it the sound of Mikey’s body hitting the floor? Was the demon after Gerard now? 

Sure he knows some things about ghosts ‘cause he’s the stereotypical ‘goth art kid’ but reading about it in mock-serious books is way different than the real thing.

“Yo!” Mikey’s voice calls from above him. “You dead asshole?”

Feeling almost like a cool breeze has passed by him when he hears his brother’s, not dead, voice, Gerard laughs a little with how jumpy he’s being. He watches horror movies for fun. He should not be this freaked. 

“Still alive unfortunately! What about you? You dead?” he calls back, doing his best to contain his laughter.  
Gerard’s still not about to go up and join Mikey, but he does realize he’s been kind of an idiot. 

“Help me carry this shit down!” he yells down to Gerard after a moment, his head popping into view for a second. “I don’t wanna break my back carrying your heavy shit.”

“What’d you find?”

He’s genuinely curious, seeing as he didn’t even know any of his things were up there to begin with.

“Your old cassette tapes dude! There’s like a bajillion boxes of the fuckers.”

Oh wow. He’d nearly forgotten about those.  
With all the ways to get music on his phone, even old shit that originally came on cassettes, he’d no longer needed the older methods. But they were valuable, at least in the sentimentale sense, and Gerard’s glad his mom kept them. 

Even if she did store them in the creepiest place possible.  
And he does manage to help Mikey carry each of the boxes down without freaking out once. Sure, his hands are a little extra clammy and his shaky knees threaten to send him tumbling once or twice. But all the boxes make it to the hallway floor in one piece.  
Mikey claps a hand on his shoulder, “Told ya there was nothing to be afraid of.”

“Yeah. Yeah I know. You’re right.”

As he turns down the hallway to go into the kitchen, a slice of leftover pizza his only train of thought, Gerard misses Mikey’s eyes glow black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spooky.  
If ya liked it, feel free to leave me a comment or kudos! They mean a lot!!  
<3


	11. Shine Like Sharp Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
*Cursing  
*demons? kinda?  
*Mentions of bullying/ homophobia  
but it's all very mild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who has like 5 hours until they have to be at work??? Me!  
They switched me to morning shift and I'm probably gonna fall asleep in someone's sandwich. Just saying.  
But anyway, Day 10!! Soooo  
I feel like that one episode of Spongebob where the Krusty Krab stays open 24/7 and they count the days. I'm defiantly starting to feel the stress dudes but it's fine. Because honestly, this is super fun and I enjoy just writing about witches and demons and shit. It's fun.  
But yeah, wanna say a very big thank you to @pauladiazcruz for helping me get my shit together. She's awesome and yeah, I appreciate all her help. <3  
Okay, enjoy dudes!
> 
> *Title is from "Headfirst Slide into Cooperstown on a Bad Bet" by Fall Out Boy. It's an underrated song and I love it. Or maybe every loves it and I'm oblivious. Still it's awesome and you should listen to Folie à Deux, cause yeah.

It’s a well known fact that Gerard is ‘the art kid’.

In high school, he was the kid who sat at the back of the classroom drawing for the entire lesson rather than paying attention to whatever bullshit was being taught that day. Let’s just say he got made fun of for it and leave out the gritty details. 

Long story short, kids thought he was weird, like a hermit or a crazy person. And while he wouldn’t claim to be the most sane individual, he’s not as horrible as the other kids thought he was.

So what if he enjoys drawing zombie versions of comic book characters and spends most of his time watching shitty horror movies.Why does it matter that he likes putting his hair up with hair ties and wearing lipstick? Truthfully, it shouldn’t matter. That’s just what he likes and you’ll never find him pushing other people into lockers or beating them up for liking football or women.

But high school is long behind him. Thank fuck.

Gerard’s an adult now, if only according to his driver’s license that says he’s at least old enough to drink. And so, with age, he doesn’t have to deal with bullies or high school or any of that other shit. What’s worse though is when people fucking lie to you about it, cram it into your head that it’s the best four years of your life.

So he’s a little bitter. It’s fine. 

He’s an adult now so it’s not like he has to worry about that shit anymore. There’s no one here to make fun of him, unless you count his brother or something. But that’s different. Mikey never actually means it when he’s a dick to him, it’s just teasing. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t give his brother hell right back.

Even though high school is over, he still looks the part of a typical art kid. Gerard’s skin is ghostly pale because of how much time he spends inside, hunched over a drawing pad or canvas or tablet screen. More often than not, his hands are filthy, covered with a mix of paint and pencil led that he can’t seem to wash off. Not that Gerard tries too hard. It’ll just be replaced in the next hour anyway. 

He looks the part, there’s no lie about that. With dark, long hair that is often a mess of tangles and grease coupled with his multiple layers of hoodies and jackets and flannels. But there’s nothing wrong with that, not in Gerard’s opinion anyway. Why should he wear nice things if he’s not going to leave his house?

Besides, everything he owns has at least a little paint splattered or smeared on it.

So, basically, Gerard doesn’t just do art, he lives it. 

When he’s in public, say on the train or waiting on a friend to meet him at a restaurant, he often will bring a small notepad with him. Social anxiety is a bitch and it screams at him that the nice middle-aged waitress who asks him what he’d like to drink is actually repulsed by him. He knows it’s irrational, that the lady probably won’t even remember him come the end of her shift, but having something to do while he waits helps a lot.

But tonight, he’s home. 

Gerard’s not sure when he got to the kitchen, the day passing in a bit of a blur as he worked diligently on various projects. A good thing about being a hermit, you can spend all day inside working, so long as you find a job willing to pay you for it. And he did. Find a job that is.  
But for whatever reason, this week has been a nightmare of commissions and copies and designs. If Gerard didn’t love art, didn’t love the feel of his pencil gliding across the paper as the image in his mind slowly takes form on the off white paper, he wouldn’t be able to do it.

Art is art.

It’s a way for him to project the mess in his head onto paper in something actually productive. Sometimes he even gets paid for it.

For now though, he’s taking a break. 

The microwave hums lowly in the background, heating up some take-out from the other night as Gerard sits with his legs crossed on the seat at the kitchen table. His pad is open in front of him, pencil flying across the page.  
This isn’t for work, just a mass of scribbles and shading and mess but it’s helping him get rid of the tension setting shop in his shoulders so it’s okay. He doesn’t hear the microwave ding, nor does he hear the sound of a car alarm going off somewhere just outside.

All that there is, is Gerard and the paper, the pen in his hand.

“Uh… hello?” 

Snapping his head up at the strange voice suddenly filling his kitchen, Gerard is met with someone sitting on his counter. Whoever it is, whatever it is, has its feet hanging off the side, beaten up sneakers hitting the cabinets with dull thuds as the Thing kicks its feet.

Whatever this is, it’s most definitely not human.

Not with the small, yet extremely sharp looking horns that protrude from it’s messy hair. The thing is short, sort of hunched over but there’s an air to it, like electricity biting the air around him. 

It’s looking right at Gerard, its wide, pointed smile aimed at him. 

The hair on his arms stands up.

But there’s no evil, no malice in the creature’s eyes as it studies him too. Instead it’s something… almost curious. 

“Um… hello?” he finds himself mumbling, trying to keep the shake from his voice.

His hands feel clammy, his heart pounding in the tell tale signs of his anxiety spiking. 

This thing on his counter, he doesn’t know what it is or what it wants. He doubts that it’d be anything good.

“You summoned me,” it supplies kindly, a pale, tattooed, hand reaching out and pointing towards him. 

It’s voice is softer than he would have suspected, not grating or hoarse like you’d think some sort of demon would possess. 

Looking down at his notepad, Gerard can make out some sort of… symbol. It's basically circles and triangles that he doesn’t remember drawing connected together by thick, black lines. 

“So I have,” he says under his breath, staring a long moment at the page before him.

He doesn’t remember drawing any of this and yet, in a way, he does. Gerard remembers his hand gliding over the page, the pencil seemingly moving on his own as he let his mind run free. But he’s fairly certain that he didn’t consciously summon this creature.

“What is your name human? You seem almost… surprised that I am here,” the demon asks, it’s voice just as soft as before.

Now that he’s listening, Gerard is first class for studying a person instead of actually participating in whatever conversation they’re trying to engage him in, he can definitely hear a rasp to the creature’s voice. But it’s not harsh or strong, just barely there on the tinges of its breaths. Almost like the hints of a rasp in his own, caused from years of smoking. 

Somehow, it makes the creature feel just a little more human.

Forcing himself to look up, away from his pad and towards the thing sitting in his kitchen, Gerard takes in more details. 

It’s smaller than he’d first expected, especially compacted as much as it is, with a head full of dark, rather fluffy hair and bright green eyes. Save for the sharp teeth that poke out of its hospitable smile and the horns rising from it’s head, it might just be human.

“Your name?” it presses, gesturing a little to try and prompt Gerard into actually answering.

“I- I uh, I’m Gerard… why… are you… in my kitchen?”

He has to put actual effort into not stammering but all in all he’s proud he was able to say this much to a total stranger, let alone one who’s obviously not human.

“You’ve summoned me but I’m beginning to believe that it was an accident, yeah?” 

It’s voice is just as soft as before, gentle and calming like it can sense Gerard’s unease.

He finds himself nodding.

“No harm, human. It happens from time to time. But I see you are an artist, with your pen you must have allowed your soul to wish for things that you did not know were needed.”  
Blinking a little, Gerard tries to make sense of the demon’s riddles.

“I am Frank, not exactly a demon but not quite human either. I’m sure you’ve noticed that though, aren't I right, little human?”

Despite the oddity of the demo- Frank calling him small, Gerard finds himself nodding.

“Right. Well all that I ask of this visit is that you keep a sharper eye on your mind, you cannot allow it to wonder so. And, perhaps you would be able to offer me a meal for my travels?”

“Yes,” Gerard agrees instantly, then he shrinks back down in his chair, embarrassed by his enthusiasm.

He’s not sure what it is about Frank but he just wants- needs to know more. 

“I uh-” he begins, standing abruptly to go pull the forgotten take-out from the microwave. “I have this.”

Frank smiles a Chelsea smile, lips pulled thin and teeth completely on display. If it weren’t for the relief and curiosity brimming in those forest green eyes, Gerard would fear for his life. As it is, Frank simply takes the container, accepts the fork given to him, and digs in. He eats quickly but not grossly, not like you’d expect something- or someone- half demon to eat like. All Gerard can do is watch.

“Thank you,” Frank tells him as he finishes, carefully setting the empty container and fork down before hopping off the counter. 

He is short, Gerard was right.  
Frank, standing at full height, barely reaches his shoulder and if Gerard knew him better, he might just feel inclined to rest his arm on the top of his head. But he doesn’t know Frank, doesn’t know who he is or what he can do. 

“Like I said, be a bit more careful when you’re drawing. Unless you wanna end up summoning me again.”  
“Wait,” Gerard says with a pause. “What happened to you talking in riddles and like- old English grammar?”  
That smile returns, growing less and less creepy the more times Gerard sees Frank do it. It feels like a gesture shared between friends, something kind and reassuring.

“Who says this isn’t all for show?”

And with that, with Gerard still standing speechless in the middle of the kitchen, Frank disappears. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not depressing for once!! Woooo  
Also, debating on making a Really sad chapter but I dunno. Most of these have been pretty light hearted and if you know me you know how I love to pull that heartbreaking shit like half way though. It's true of my long fics and it's true in this. I've written Too much happy and my angsty little brain is screaming at me.  
Or I may just be very tired.  
Whether or not I channel that need for the sad shit into this or into my next long fic, which I am already planning, is still up for debate. But just saying, don't expect all happy things...  
wow that was ominous. Sorry dudes.  
Also, I AM writing that requested chapter but I'm just slowly working my way through the ones I already had finished before I can post it. I haven't forgotten I swear!!!  
Can you tell I force my own anxiety and shit into these chapters? Cause I can. It's called college is stressful. Don't do it and work full time. Very bad.  
Okay, happy October everyone. I'm gonna go and sleep for like 4 hours and it's gonna be great. If you want, leave a comment or kudos. They mean a lot!! <3


	12. When I Grow Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening everyone!  
Thank you as always to @pauladiazcruz for being my beta for this challenge! <3  
This one's short but I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> *Chapter title is from The End by My Chem*

They say that living alone is what kills you.

Though, Frank’s not sure who “they” really is. Nor does he understand why everyone seems so eager to just jump into relationships so they don’t have to live alone.  
He’s comfortable like this. There’s no one to wake him up early, no one to bitch at him for not cleaning up. He can do all those dumb things 14 year old him wanted, like staying up entirely too late just for the hell of it or eat his dinner in bed rather than in his kitchen.Living alone is vastly underrated in his opinion.

Maybe one day, sometime far in the future, he may settle down with someone nice, have a couple of dogs and a shared Netflix account or whatever. But for now he’s content with the peacefulness of living alone. 

He goes to bed at 2am tonight, something not uncommon since he works the evening shift at his job. Snuggling up in the warmth provided by the freshly dried bed sheets (it was the odd occasion where he was feeling like an -actual- adult long enough to wash his sheets earlie), Frank falls asleep quickly. 

Tomorrow he will wake up, probably waste a few hours on the internet or on Netflix and then drag his ass to work at 3. But for now he is lazy and content. 

His dreams are nothing of importance, just hazy backgrounds of swirling leaves and hushed voices. As he drifts further, the dreams fade into nothing but blackness. He snores, not that he’d ever know that, and the sound fills the small confines of his bedroom.

The window is shut tight, the curtains drawn so that the early morning sun and crisp January air can’t get in and disturb his sleep. Frank’s phone lies on the bedside table, charging and on silent. 

At the foot of his bed lies the work uniform he peeled from his skin, having not bothered to shower before crawling into bed.

All is quiet, almost like that Christmas story with the mice. The moonlight outside can’t penetrate the harsh fabric of the curtains, nor can it seep under the small hole between the door and the bedroom floor.

Frank rolls over in his sleep, mumbling to himself as he holds some invisible, and soon to be forgotten, conversation. The sheets tangle around his naked form, twisting firmly but not uncomfortably tight. 

His tattoos are dark, harsh against the weak light of the room. If there were anyone there to see him, they’d surely be entranced by the way the ink seems to spread over every inch of his skin as if it were liquid. 

Floorboards creak in the hallway beyond his room, the sound faint enough to keep Frank from waking. It happens again, two soft creeks as the wood shifts and settles.

Footsteps, fast and hurried, echo down the hallway. They pass by his door, then pause. 

Three steps backwards and then it stands before the door to Frank’s room. His loud snoring remains the only sound.

A pause, long and fat as it waits. 

Then, at last a sound.  
High and sweet, loud enough to wake him.

Frank sits upright, frantically searching the dark room for the source of the sound. His phone rests where he left it, on silent and charging. 

The sound comes from outside the door. 

Standing on shaking legs, Frank grabs his phone and hurriedly turns on the flashlight. Each step is silent, nothing but the sheer sound of it on the other side. 

He recognizes the sound but it still does not register. There are no infants on this floor, no expecting couples.

Just him and some senior citizens who are already asleep when he leaves for work. But it’s there, clear as day. 

Laughter.  
An infant's laughter, loud and shrill and piercing.

It sends ice up his spine, his fingers tingling with the sensation.

As he takes the final step, the door handle in reach, Frank pauses for a quick breath. He doesn’t know what will be on the other side but he has to be ready. 

The only weapon he has is his phone, maybe if he throws it hard enough he’ll have time to escape. 

With that plan in place, Frank reaches forward to twist the door handle. The metal knob is cold, frozen, yet it clicks as he opens the door. 

Beyond the door frame lies nothing. 

Nothing but pitch blackness and dead silence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe spooky shit is fun.  
Leave a comment or kudos if you liked this! or if you hated it. I'm not picky haha


	13. Do you believe in fate?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
*cursing  
* sick/hurt animals. It's kinda sad but I promise it doesn't die!  
*mentions of death (but again nothing dies I swear!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo day 12!!  
Took a midterm today, am very tired so here we are. Thank you to @pauladiazcruz for all her help! P.S. that sad thing I mentioned, its Definitely gonna be a thing. So be prepared!!  
Enjoy!
> 
> *Chapter title is *roughly* from Destroya by My Chemical Romance!*

“There it is again!” Pete shouts, pointing excitedly towards the dumpster to their left.

Mikey looks over, easily hiding his amusement behind his sunglasses as he notices the small black cat wonder out from behind the dumpster. 

“Leave it alone.”  
“But Mikey,” Pete whines, pulling on his hand to lead him off the sidewalk and down into the alley.

This is how people get murdered, being led into unknown alleys by suspicious animals. Of course Pete would be one of the idiots to fall for it.

“Look at it! Mikey, it’s so tiny!” Pete exclaims though his voice is more quiet as he crouches down. “Besides, it ran like- over me. It’s a black cat and next week’s fuckin’ Halloween.”

Mikey shakes his head but doesn’t answer as Pete continues to ramble.  
“Maybe I’ve been blessed by the Halloween gods or some shit. Makes sense right?”

“Uh huh. That’s totally logical,” Mikey grumbles, wrapping an arm around himself.  
It’s cold out and he was really hoping to already be home by now. But of course Pete had spotted a helpless creature he could bother and- well here they are.

He watches Pete extend an arm towards the cat. It watches them warily from behind an old cardboard box, the only part of it visible is it’s tiny head.

“Here kitty, kitty. C’mon. I’m not gonna hurt you,” Pete prompts quietly, hand outstretched.  
The cat doesn’t move and Mikey rolls his eyes. It’s probably feral and there’s no way that it’s gonna just jump into Pete’s hands that easily.

“Come here kitty. I just wanna pet you,” Pete coos, leaning forward to extend his hand a little further.

This time the cat does move, taking one tiny step towards them. It still looks suspicious, it’s tail low and ears down. 

But then, as it comes out from behind the box, Mikey’s able to see just how small the cat really is. Small is not even the right word. It’s absolutely tiny, nothing but fucking bones.

He can see each of its ribs, the bumps of its spine. It looks sick, starving and he can’t help but notice how its fur is matted heavily.

Instantly, Mikey’s heart aches for the poor thing and he knows that Pete’s seen it’s condition too. 

They’re gonna end up going home with this cat, aren't they?

“Mikey…” Pete breathes, shock and sympathy pouring through his voice.

“I see it.”  
“Can we- can we keep him?”

The cat wonders closer, moving to hesitantly sniff Pete’s outstretched hand. It’s black fur isn’t shiny but is long and tangled instead. Mikey isn’t sure if it has ever been brushed or lived anywhere but on the streets. Each of the steps it took were slow, almost as if it was painful.

But, somehow, despite its condition, it's warming up to Pete quickly as it now moves to rub against his knee. Apparently deciding they’re not a threat.

“He looks sick, Pete.”

He’s not exactly saying “no” but he wants Pete to fully understand that they’re going to have to help this cat recover if they take him home. Pete likes to rush into things and Mikey at least wants to make sure he thinks this through.

“That’s why we gotta help him,” he presses, reaching over to carefully pet the cat. 

“Okay. We’ll take him home,” Mikey relents at last, knowing that he never really intended to leave the cat here. “But I get to name him,” he adds with a smirk, if only to take his mind off of the suffering cat.  
“What? No fair,” Pete whines, though his attention is mostly on the cat now as he pets him.

“My apartment, my rules.”  
“Fine.”

The cat limps closer and Pete scoops it into his arms. Without any prompting the cat curls up and is even beginning to purr quietly as they both step back onto the sidewalk.

“See, he loves me already,” Pete tells him proudly, watching the cat with wide eyes as it yawns.

“I can see that.”

It’s not that Mikey doesn’t care, or that he doesn’t also feel the need to take the cat home with them. Trust him, it’s not that. 

It’s just… looking over and seeing how sick the poor thing looks, Mikey doesn’t know how to get Pete to understand the gravity of this situation. They’re now gonna be responsible for vet bills, food, medicine, you name it. And even if they do pay for all of those things, there’s still the chance that the cat might not make it.

From the way Pete’s holding the little black cat, pressing it up against his chest to stave away the worst of the cold as he looks down to it every so often…

God. Mikey can tell that Pete’s already attached, and so is he if he’s honest. He can only imagine the way losing the cat would break Pete’s heart. Just then an image flashes almost violently against his mind. It’s of darkness, of Pete’s watery eyes, hands carefully holding an unmoving black lump as his voice begs Mikey to bring him back. 

It snaps away as quickly as it appeared. Mikey stumbles but Pete thankfully doesn’t notice.

Shit, this is bad.

He’s not sure if it was an actual vision or just his worries manifesting. Though he’s praying to every god he believes in that it’s not. But he can’t voice this to Pete, can’t crush any of the giddy happiness that’s in the way he’s looking down at that small cat in his arms. 

Fuck.

He tries to think rationally.

If that was a vision, which it felt so real and chances are it was, he needs to let Pete know. At least so they don’t go through the pain of having their hopes crushed. 

Right, he needs to tell him. Pete will understand. He’ll probably be sad but at least they can make the cat comfortable before it passes.

Steeling himself, Mikey looks over to Pete.  
He’s got a soft grin on his face as he speaks, the words never registering in Mikey’s mind. Vaguely he wonders what Pete’s saying, if it’s important, but mostly he thinks about that happy bounce to his step. The way Pete’s absently petting the cat’s ears as they walk.

Mikey hesitates, watching Pete wrap his jacket around the cat to keep it from a particularly bitter wind gust. But he’s still smiling, going on about which toys the cat likes. 

“Maybe we could get one of those fuzzy things,” Mikey hears him say distantly.

He needs to tell him before they get home, before Pete calls the vet and sets all this shit up. It’s not worth it. It’s-

“-can go to the store later and-”

“Pete.”

“Yeah…?”

He glances over to Mikey, the excitement in his eyes dwindling.

“I- I uh-”

“Shit,” Pete breathes out, looking down at the cat now as they both come to a stop. “You had a vision thing didn’t you?” 

It doesn’t sound accusing, though Mikey feels like it should. It’s his fault Pete’s sad now.

“Yeah… I-”  
“Are you okay?” Pete asks, surprising him.

He figured Pete would demand to know exactly what he saw, examine every detail so they could try and change things. Then Mikey would have to tell him that’s not how things work and they’d deal with things from there.

And Pete does look concerned but not for the cat. No. He’s looking at Mikey with those wide, hesitant eyes that he had just moments ago trained on the animal in his arms. Mikey doesn’t know what to do under the gaze so he watches his boots.

The sidewalk is pale from the salt thrown there to keep the ice at bay and he can still see the remnants of the crystals. There’s a puddle to his right, murky and brown with dirt from the road.

“Hey,” Pete’s hand is on his shoulder. “Hey are you okay? Do you need to sit down?”

Oh. Right.

Yeah, so Mikey’s visions normally hit him like a train wreck. He’s been so focused on how to break the news to Pete about what he saw that he hadn’t really paid any attention to how shitty he feels.  
There’s a definite headache forming behind his eyes, already annoying enough to make him squint his eyes. But other than that, and the way his hands are still shaking, Mikey’s fine.  
Loads better than the cat, he thinks bitterly. Though he doesn’t really mean it.

Pete doesn’t answer, just wraps his arm around Mikey’s shoulder and guides him forward once more.

“Shoulda’ told me when it happened idiot,” Pete chides him gently.  
“I- look Pete- it’s about the cat and-”  
“I don’t wanna know. Fate changes all the time. Sometimes you’re wrong or you interpret it weird. I mean, I still haven't gotten any pineapples screaming at me in French so.”

Mikey can’t help the laugh that bubbles up, Pete’s encouragement somehow helping more than he’d expected.

“Besides,” Pete continues, “we can just scour all your books and shit and find a way to help little Garbage.  
Mikey opens his mouth to tell Pete how good of an idea that actually is, until the last part sinks in. 

“Oh god.”

“Hey,” Pete stops walking, a chilled hand coming up to cup Mikey’s face as he inspects him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine but- fucking- please tell me you’re not planning on calling the cat Garbage?”

Pete blinks for a moment but then he’s smiling wide, eyes glimmering as he cackles.

“It’s a fitting name for our little trash bug dontcha think?”

“No. No I do not think. What the hell kinda name even is that?”

“A damn good one if I do say so myself,” Pete replies cockilly, jutting his hip out and gently patting the cat. 

“I thought I’m naming him?”

“Okay, fine. What totally normal name do you have for him? And if you say smokey I’m legit gonna stab you right here on the sidewalk,” Pete warns, poking a finger at Mikey accusingly.  
He scoffs, playfully batting Pete’s finger away from his chest.

“Threatening murder are we now Mr. Wentz?” 

“Oh fuck off. You know I could kick your ass any day Mikeyway.”

Rolling his eyes, Mikey playfully shoves Pete’s shoulder. 

“Hey, precious fuckin’ cargo asshole,” he shouts in a mocking tone.  
People glare at them for obscuring the walkway, and for yelling curses in the middle of the sidewalk on a Tuesday, but Mikey pays them no mind.

“What about Trash Goblin?” Mikey ventures with a shrug, deeming it no worse than fucking Garbage.

“Yes! We can call him Goblin for short!”

Pete’s almost bursting with excitement, bouncing on the heels of his feet like a little kid as he beams up at Mikey.

“I’m fine with that,” Mikey admits casually, though he has to agree that Goblin is a good name for a cat.

“Okay, c’mon. Let’s get inside before you and the cat freeze.”

“What’s that supposed to mean asshole?” Mikey retorts as they finally make it to their walkway. 

“The cat’s as fuckin’ skinny as you are. I’m gonna have to get some meat on your bones before you both freeze to death.”

Mikey resists the urge to actually punch Pete, though it wouldn’t be the first time, and instead swats him on the back of the head as they walk inside. He ignores the fact that he has no less than 8 layers on right now and Pete, who does, as he puts it, have some meat on his bones, only has a jacket over his long sleeved shirt. 

Pete’s voice travels from the kitchen, where Mikey can hear him dropping shit and cursing rather loudly to himself. Rolling his eyes once more, he closes the door behind him. 

His hands still shake a bit from the vision, his head already reaching the first stages of actually painful. It serves as a reminder to what he saw but he tries to focus instead on the way Pete’s already made a bed of sorts out of dish towels. The cat rests lazily on them as Pete runs around the kitchen in search of something that it can eat.

“Can Goblin eat peanut butter like dogs do?” Pete calls to Mikey, his head stuck in the pantry. 

With a sigh, Mikey goes over and helps Pete search for some food for the cat. Maybe his vision was wrong, maybe it was just a warning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear the cat won't die!!!  
But you're just gonna have to read part two when it comes out tomorrow to find out what happens next!!!  
<3  
I appreciate all of your comments and kudos so much! And if you do wanna tell me what you think, you are more than welcome to leave a comment! They really mean a lot and I love you guys!!


	14. I Don't Believe In Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
*cursing  
*mentions of sick animals ( but he's fine I swear!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe it's the 13. Sadly not a Friday but close enough.  
This is a part two of the previous chapter!!  
All the credit to @pauladiazcruz for being amazing and helping me with my shitty ass grammar. I swear I'm an English major! I just suck sometimes! haha  
But for real, hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Chapter title is from Destroya by My Chemical Romance*

The first week passes in a blur.

There’s at least two vet visits that Mikey can remember, though he’s sure that there were more than that according to the hefty bill that he opened in the mail the other day. On top of that, they’ve been to the pet store no less than four times. First to get essential things like a bed, food, and a litter box for Goblin. But then Pete had said the cat looked sad, which Mikey had to agree on, and they’d gone back to the pet store for toys. 

Then the vet recommended a special kind of flea medicine and they’d gone back once again. Mikey’s not sure why they’re here today though.

The muggy weather outside gives the city a sleepy feeling. It’s one of those days where you feel like you should be snuggled up inside, a warm drink in hand while you do something relaxing. If he were home, Mikey’s pretty sure he’d either be drawing or reading up on some of his books.

But sadly, Pete had practically dragged him out this morning. They’d gotten coffee on their way so they could drink it while they walked. That had been nice, warm coffee in one hand and Pete’s hand in his other. He’d laughed when Pete let Goblin curl up in his hoodie pocket, though it’d been insanely adorable how his little head poked out occasionally. 

The weather, or perhaps tomorrow’s holiday, has kept the pet store from being too crowded right now. Mikey’s nerves are grateful for that.

There’s so few people really, just the occasional kid holding onto their new kitten or someone letting their dog pick out a special toy. 

He’s gotta admit, this place isn’t too bad. The prices are cheap and they’ve literally found everything that they needed, and then some. 

“Green or yellow?” Pete asks, prompting Mikey to actually pay attention to him.

He looks over, watching Pete hold two identical collars out for him to inspect. One’s a bright, neon yellow and the other is a softer shade of winter green. Either would stand out against Goblin’s black fur but Mikey doesn’t point that out.

The cat in question is currently napping in Pete’s arms. He’s been sleeping a lot with all the meds the vet put him on, which does make Mikey worry, but he is doing better. 

Mikey still sees that horrible image of Pete holding Goblin out to him, dead. Every time he closes his eyes that image comes back. He has to blink it away to forget the pain in Pete’s eyes and focus on where he is right now.

He can hear the shitty pop music playing low over the speakers, the scuff of someone walking down the next aisle over. Somewhere off to his right a dog barks excitedly. Pete’s standing in front of him, the two collars dangling off his fingers on his free hand and Goblin is snuggled safely in Pete’s arms.

“Dude, green or yellow? Cause like- I don’t want him to look like a fuckin’ highlighter but I also don’t want him to get lost either,” Pete insists, catching on to Mikey’s drifting thoughts.

“Green.”  
Pete nods and puts the yellow one back on the rack before holding the green one against Goblin’s fur to compare. 

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“I know,” Mikey admits, fighting back a smirk as Pete holds the collar up to his own neck. 

“Think I should get one for me too? Me and Goblin can match! And that way neither of us will get lost!”

Mikey rolls his eyes and walks away, not in the mood to deal with Pete’s shit today.

He turns down the next aisle, one that apparently contains every form of litter imaginable. It smells weird, too clean, like the brands are trying to cover a smell that isn’t even there yet.

Pete speed walks over, his shuffling feet and cackling laugh a dead give away. Even so, Mikey is startled as he all but pounces on him and nearly takes him to the floor.

Shoving him off, a bit more forceful than necessary, Mikey realizes that he’s bitten the inside of his mouth. 

He resists the urge to spit out the nasty, coppery taste, if only so that some poor cleaner won’t have to mop it up later, and glares harshly at Pete.

“The fuck was that?” He demands, though, the look on Pete’s face makes it hard for him to stay mad.

“You walked away.” Pete explains with a shrug, adjusting Goblin as he wakes up. 

“Great. You woke the cat dumbass. He’s supposed to be sleeping ya know, not going on fucking sneak attacks,” Mikey scolds.

He’s not sure why this bothers him as much as it does. He knows Pete wouldn’t actually hurt the cat, he is probably the last person who would ever hurt Goblin. Pete had fucking tackled him while holding the still very fragile cat. The thought alone of something happening to Goblin makes icy fear leak into Mikey’s veins. He shutters, trying to get that stupid vision out of his mind once more.

Before Pete can come up with some bullshit excuse or Mikey can drag him home, another vision sneaks up on him. Maybe it was triggered by him fighting off the memory of the other one or something but as soon as he realizes what’s happening, Mikey tries to prepare himself to see Goblin hurt or- or worse. But that’s not what he sees.

It’s really blurry, as if it’s not quite set in motion yet, but he can definitely see Goblin. He looks healthier, well-fed and happy. Mikey watches as Goblin walks across a familiar table, carefully missing the pages scattered there. He watches as he comes to a stop at the edge, head butting someone on the arm. 

That jacket sleeve looks familiar…

And then it fades and Mikey’s back in the pet store with Pete. This time when he stumbles and his knees threaten to give out, Pete catches him.

Mikey clings to Pete’s arm, squeezing his eyes shut as he wills the headache to just hold off long enough for him to get his bearings again. 

Slowly the spinning room stills and his legs don’t shake beneath him. The headache doesn’t lessen but it’s not like he expected it to. Still, he takes a few steadying breaths and tries to focus on not collapsing on the stupid pet store floor.

“Shit, are you okay?”

Pete’s concern is really nice, as is the warm arm that’s holding him up, but Mikey shrugs him off anyway. 

He stares down at Goblin, the cat’s eyes finding his. The vision was about Goblin, that much is certain, but he’d been in what Mikey now recognizes as his practice room. The room is nothing fancy, just the spare bedroom turned into a safe place of sorts for Mikey to practice his magic in. 

He gets his best visions in there, the clearest and most focused. 

But even Pete’s barely allowed in there, for obvious chaotic reasons, so why would Mikey let a cat just wander over his things? 

“Mikey,” Pete says again, more forcefully. “Are you okay? What did you see? You’ve gone really fuckin’ pale and you’re scaring me, please-”  
“I’m fine. I just, it was nothing.”  
Mikey wraps his jacket around him tightly, despite the heated air blowing down on them through the vents. He’s cold now, goosebumps rising up along his arms. Or maybe that’s from the magic, he’s not sure. 

“It didn’t look like nothing,” Pete says matter of factly before lowering his voice and asking, “What’d you see?” 

With a sigh Mikey tries to figure out what to say. It’s hard enough with the shaky image of the vision in his head, let alone trying to form it into words for Pete.

“I- basically, I saw Goblin. Again. It’s not in focus, like it’s not set in stone or whatever, but he was in my practice room. That’s- that’s about it.”

Pete looks at him in slight disbelief. 

“Seriously? You have one powerful enough to damn near drop you and you just see the cat in your room?” he asks incredulously, one eyebrow raising as if to challenge Mikey.

“Yeah I- that’s what I saw Pete. I dunno wh-why.”  
Pete’s expression softens and he wraps an arm around Mikey’s shoulder just like before. The warmth radiating off of him is pleasant and Mikey leans his head against him for a moment, resting his eyes. 

Even with his eyes closed, the harsh white of the artificial lighting makes his head throb as he realizes that his hands are definitely shaking now.

“C’mon. Let's get you home,” Pete says gently, guiding Mikey towards the front so they can pay. 

The walk home is both an eternity and a blink. 

Mikey remembers Pete trying to talk to him, hopefully about nothing important, but it’s all muffled. He’s fairly certain that he’d answered him, or at least acknowledged him. Still, Mikey is dead on his feet as they walk through the front door.

He doesn’t even take off his jacket, just toes off his shoes and flops face first down onto the nearest soft surface. Mikey seems to have gotten lucky, it feels like it’s the couch. 

It’s still absolutely freezing but Mikey can’t find the effort to get up and grab a blanket or something. Sleep first and then he can get warm. Priorities or something.

“Hey,” a warm hand presses onto his back and he manages shift enough to look over at Pete. “You can sleep in just a sec, you should take these before your headache gets worse, okay?” 

Mikey manages to take the pills and Pete even tucks him in with the warmest blanket they have, without him asking. Warm now and suddenly so very sleepy, Mikey drifts off.

___________________

Another week passes, this time more slowly.

Goblin settles into their routine nicely. He trips Pete up by somehow ending up right under his feet as he tries to head out the door for work in the mornings. Pete’s fallen no less than three times already this week, though he’s managed to not actually step on Goblin somehow. 

Mikey no longer needs an alarm on his phone to remember to feed him or give him his medicine. He just sorta finds himself doing it. But he doesn't mind at all.

Goblin is doing better, already getting some of his strength and personality back. He likes to curl up in Mikey’s lap as he’s drawing and he’ll lick Mikey’s arm or purr until he gives in and pets him. 

And Goblin has even started coming to Mikey during his visions. It’s so odd, to be stuck in whatever he’s seeing and then suddenly there’s just a cat brushing against his leg or in his lap. What makes it even stranger is that it helps, Goblin actually helps Mikey recover more quickly. Or maybe just not strain himself as much trying to get the picture.  
Whatever it is, Goblin ends up being there at Mikey’s side during every vision that week. He doesn’t see anything major, just something about a traffic delay in the summer and then himself doing laundry. 

Sometimes he wonders why he’s seeing things like that, why his power would choose to show him himself folding shirts for a good minute and a half. There’s bound to be something much more useful that he could see. 

But he knows better than to question his gift. 

What's odd though is that having Goblin there helps him, even with the little visions. 

He’ll come up to Mikey sometime during it, snuggle up and let him pet him as he recovers. And maybe Mikey’s nuts, but he swears the headaches are getting less intense. 

A soft head butting against his calf draws him from his thoughts. He doesn’t have to look under the table to know that Goblin’s the culprit, though he does reach down and give him a soft scratch on the head. 

It’s so easy for him to drift off into thoughts with the house quiet like it is. Pete’s at work and Mikey genuinely has no good reason to be outside today. If he did go out, he’d just end up getting McDonalds and an iced coffee or something. 

So he’s stayed in, taken up his normal spot at the table and started doodling. He definitely wouldn’t call the squiggles covering the page in front of him drawing, that’s for sure.

But- wait…

He was fairly sure he’d closed the door behind him when he’d come in. Most of the books and things in his practice room are valuable, and he really doesn’t want to risk anything getting torn or broken. 

Normally not even Pete is allowed in here but seeing as he’s left the door open, and Goblin is just being so damn adorable as he weaves between Mikey’s legs, he decides to not kick him out. Besides, the company is nice as he continues to doodle and drifts off into thought once more.

________________________________________

Mikey’s so focused on the book in his hands that he doesn’t even hear the knock on the door.

He’s gotta figure out this spell and he’s going to. 

Even if it freaking kills him he’s gonna figure out why he can’t do this. 

It should be simple, say the words, guide his magic, make the thing happen. But it’s not working and he’s tried the first part of the spell at least eight times today. 

At first he thought that maybe it was because he was distracted. So when Pete took Goblin for his, hopefully, last vet visit, Mikey hid himself away to try and figure this out. 

Hours have passed and he’s still lost.

All he wants is to find a way to actually activate his visions rather than waiting on them to just happen. Waiting sucks and he’s very rarely shown anything worthwhile anyway. 

It’s been like a month since he saw anything that’s come true. Though, he’s honestly relieved that the first one he had about Goblin didn’t come true.

Something jumps up into Mikey’s lap without warning. He startles, cursing and flailing as a mass of black fur is suddenly on him. Intelligent green eyes stare back up at him and Goblin meows once as if to mock his reaction.

“Sorry,” Pete’s voice comes from the doorway.

Mikey can hear him trying not to laugh but it’s clearly not working. He can’t stay mad though, not with the soft fur under his fingers as he pets Goblin.

“What’d the vet say?” he asks after motioning Pete inside. 

“He’s doing much better. Said to make sure he’s eating enough and that he stays warm. Other than that, Goblin’s fine.”  
Relief washes over Mikey and he leans over to press a kiss to the soft fur of Goblin’s forehead.

“Ya hear that, you’re all healthy again,” Mikey tells the cat, smiling as he seems uninterested with the news.

“I really didn't mean to bother you. I thought Goblin would just like- headbutt your legs or something. You- you didn't lose a spell cause of me did you?”

“No,” Mikey says with a chuckle, “no I couldn’t get the fucker to work anyway.”

______________________________________

Okay, now it’s just annoying.

Mikey seriously cannot figure out this fucking spell.

It’s so simple. 

He puts the crushed herbs into the little bowl before pulling one strand of hair from his head. Snapping the fingers holding the strand, it ignites and he drops it into the bowl. Mikey looks over to the page next to him, even though he could probably recite this thing by heart at this point. 

Next goes in some honey sweetened milk and a few uncrushed herbs. 

Another snap of his fingers and the first part of the spell is done. Or well, it should be. 

He always does it exactly the way the stupid book tells him and it never works past this point. 

Goblin watches him from his perch on one of the shelves. 

After Mikey had realized that he wasn’t going to knock over anything and that he was actually really good, quiet, company, he’d decided to let him stay. After all, Goblin seems to be a good luck charm.

Sighing, Mikey pours the freshly made potion into a cup, whispering the next part of the spell under his breath as he does. The potion flashes, turning into a sickly green color rather than the muddy brown it was moments ago. 

He pulls the cup up to his lips before turning to Goblin.

“Cheers buddy,” he grumbles, preparing himself for the horribly bitter taste of what he’s about to drink.

It’s thick and bitter but Mikey manages to down it in one go. He shutters and fights off his gag reflex. 

God that was vile. 

He’s not sure how he’s able to pick burned hair out of the mass of equally terrible flavors, but he can. Already planning on practically drinking fucking mouthwash to get this taste out of his mouth, Mikey misses the odd tingle on his hands.

It’s not until Goblin hops down and wonders over, nudging his legs until he sits down, that Mikey notices how he’s shaking.

The book didn’t say anything other than the spell would help him have more control over his visions so Mikey isn’t sure if this is normal or not. But he doesn’t feel bad per se. Just shaky and… and a little dizzy.

Though, it passes quickly after Goblin jumps up to his lap. 

When he feels the effects fade after a few moments, Mikey smiles a little down at Goblin.

“Thanks buddy,” he says affectionately, giving him a few good pets.

For a feral cat, Goblin really enjoys being pet. Not that Mikey’s gonna complain.

“Alright,” he says after a moment. “Lets see if this shit worked or if I drank burned fucking hair for nothing.”

Mikey closes his eyes, trying to focus his energy into that feeling he gets when he has a vision. There’s no way to describe it really.

It’s almost like he’s floating, or maybe dreaming is a better word. He’s detached, watching from an odd perspective as whatever he’s supposed to see happens. He can’t interfere, can’t turn and make himself see a different angle. 

Sometimes it’s more like a nightmare, just flashes of an event or a person. Other times it’s a snippet of a conversation, faceless voices talking about something that often times never ends up making sense. 

Mikey feels when it clicks in, the way his mind is pulled into whatever he’s supposed to see. 

He can still feel Goblin purring on his lap, can feel the long strands of his fur between his fingers. But Mikey is watching something else.  
It’s pretty basic, just him and Pete. They’re outside, a few orange and red trees just on the edges of his vision. There’s leaves all around them and they crunch with each step Pete takes towards Mikey.

Pete gets closer, his grin wide and eyes squinted as he laughs at something.

He looks older, maybe in his mid 40’s. There’s bits of grey in his hair, shining silver in the weak autumn sunlight. Something catches Mikey’s eyes, a glint of something on Pete’s hand as he tugs a strand of hair behind his ear.

A ring. A silver, shining ring.

Mikey fades slowly back into reality, thoroughly exhausted but with the stupidest grin on his face. He lazily pets Goblin as he judges how bad this headache is going to be.  
It’s definitely not going to be fun but not bad enough to ruin the rest of his day. Goblin yawns, his tired feline eyes meeting Mikey’s.

And then it clicks.

Why Goblin always helped him with the after affects of his visions, why he was so attached to the cat. 

Goblin is his familiar.

And it’s so stereotypical for him to be a black cat but Mikey honestly doesn’t care.

“Thank you,” he tells Goblin genuinely, feeling slightly bad for not realizing this sooner.  
Of course the cat doesn’t answer. Even so, the two of them both drift off to sleep in the chair together a few moments later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah I wrote something mostly cute. I count that as a win.  
Also, tomorrow is gonna be the fic requested on like day two (finally) and I'm so excited!! I'm always excited and stuff to post, I really do love doing this, but this one is already so much fun!  
See you all tomorrow! <3


	15. Kobra Kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING:  
*cursing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This one is sorta early cause I can't stay up to midnight tonight.  
The prompt for today was requested like-day two and I'm sorry for taking so long to get to it! But it's pure fluff and I hope.you all like it!  
Also, thanks to @pauladiazcruz for being an amazing beta!!  
Enjoy!

“Don’t look,” Pete calls from inside their bedroom.

Mikey huffs, checking the time on his phone and rolling his eyes impatiently.

They have to be at the stupid party by 6 and if Pete makes him late, Mikey’s gonna kill him. 

Rather than -actually- getting mad at Pete, Mikey ventures into the other bathroom to do one final check on his costume.

See, he and Gee have a sort of bet going on for tonight.

With their newest album out, and being more well received than Mikey thought it’d be, they’ve had to attend party after party to celebrate. The first few were fun, going in and then talking in interviews about why they did the colorful change and how, yes the costumes were fun as hell to make. But then it’d evolved into the same few questions over and over.

When’s the next album?  
Is there gonna be another music video?

And Mikey’s certain his brother is sick of getting questions about his weight loss. 

It all gets old very quickly and even the breaths of fresh air that come from talking to fans who genuinely like the new look isn’t enough.

So, Mikey and Gerard decided to make this one a bit more fun.

It’s Halloween tonight and they’re all being dragged to yet another dumb party. It’s basically a given that they’re gonna dress up, I mean- c’mon they’ve done costumes every other month of the year. Who would ever think they wouldn’t go all out?

So Frank’s naturally going in his Fun Ghoul costume. The fucker practically lives in that thing anyway. And Mikey doesn’t know what Ray’s going as but it’s probably gonna be his Jet Star one so that at least he and Frank will match.

But Gerard has prompted Mikey with a bet to see who can make the goriest costume of the least gory character. 

Mikey ended up choosing Zero the dog from Nightmare Before Christmas. 

Sure, it’s technically a Halloween movie- and a Christmas one too. Feel free to fight him on that one!- but the character isn’t exactly gory so it fits his brother’s rules.

He’s dressed in an all white tux that’s a few sizes too big on him to give the same sort of effect of the sheet that the dog has in the movie. There’s blood splatter all over it though, nearly as vibrant and messy as his brother’s hair. He’d also added hand-made dog ears and a glowing nose to the look. 

Then, Mikey had gone in an added all sorts of fake wounds and bite marks. There’s a nasty looking one on his arm that took freaking hours to get right as well as nearly a whole container of fake blood. He’d put a deep scratch to his cheek as well, also oozing with blood.

Years of touring with his brother meant he knew how to make himself look dead, so some pasty foundation and dark eyeshadow under his lined eyes made him truly look the part.

Feeling rather proud of himself, and certain that Gerard was not going to win this one, Mikey hears their bedroom door creak open.

“Can I see your costume now or am I gonna have to fuckin’ wait until the party?” Mikey calls to the footsteps clicking down the hallway.

From the sound of it, Pete’s got boots on. Which is odd but Mikey doesn’t know what he’s going as so maybe it fits with the character or something.

“Close your eyes,” Pete says mischievously, his voice coming from the right side of the doorway.

Mikey sighs but closes his eyes, knowing it’s not worth it to argue. 

Besides, Pete’s been building this up for like a month.

It’s just been subtle hints as to how much he’s gonna love his costume and sneaky calls to Gerard that Pete probably doesn’t think Mikey heard. Which, he didn’t mean to hear but it was definitely odd to walk into the kitchen and hear your boyfriend asking your brother something about colors of jackets.

Mikey hears Pete step into the bathroom after a moment, though he keeps his eyes closed. He’s curious now, wondering what on earth Pete could be up to.

“Okay, open.”

He opens his eyes half expecting something dumb, like a Sponge Bob costume or some shit. Mikey expects to have to tell Pete to go and change because they’re going to a party for work, not to look like 12 year olds.

But that’s clearly not the case this time.

It takes a moment for Mikey’s brain to catch up. 

Pete stands in the doorway, a shit eating grin plastered to his face as he lets Mikey take this in.

Mikey’s slowly able to recognize the bright red jacket, the logo he helped design standing out on the chest. Pete has the jacket unzipped, revealing a yellow and black tank-top underneath. He was right about the boots too. There’s leather gloves on Pete’s hands as he brushes a strand of hair out of his eyes. 

He can’t tell if the blond color of his hair is a wig or if Pete actually fucking bleached and cut his hair for this. But it’s even styled in the same way Mikey had it for the costume.

All in all, Pete makes a damn good Kobra Kid. He’s even got a real looking ray-gun hooked to a holster on his hip. 

“Fuck…”

“You like it?” Pete asks, almost shyly.

“How the hell- why the hell?”

Mikey’s speechless. It should be weird as hell for Pete to dress up as him. 

But at the same time, the attention to detail and the amount of time Pete must have put into this is astonishing. No wonder he’s been talking about this surprise for over a month. He’s very likely been working on it since summer ended.

“It’s dumb,” Pete mumbles, fiddleing with the straps on the brown leather gloves he’s wearing.

Having none of that, Mikey steps forward and takes Pete’s hand in his own. Nervous brown eyes flicker up to meet his.

“I just- I’m proud of you- ya know?” Pete admits at last. “You went and helped make this insane universe with all these badass characters and like one of the best albums I’ve ever fucking heard. And I know you’re like- not Kobra Kid but you are at the same time. Like that badassery that no one seems to give you credit for and how I know how hard you fight for the shit that you believe in. It just- I wanted to show you how insanely happy I am that you chose me when-”  
Mikey cuts his ramblings off by colliding their lips together. 

Honestly, his heart feels fit to burst with the amount of love pouring through him right now. Dressing up as him, or well a character that he played, as a proud gesture is such a stupid romantic thing to do. But it’s such a Pete thing to do and it only reinforces how much Mikey loves him. Moments like this are what makes that soft, warm feeling bubble up in his chest. Because no one else would have thought of this. No one else would have put as much effort and thought into something like this.  
And now Mikey could care less about losing that stupid bet with his brother. He could care less about the same four questions they’re bound to get asked tonight for the 15th time. 

All he cares about is that Pete’s gonna be right there with him the whole time. He’s gonna walk into that party and every single person there will be able to see how much Pete loves Mikey. 

They have to pull apart to catch their breath but it feels too soon. 

Pete chuckles, leaning his head against Mikey’s chest as they try and steady their breathing. 

“So you like it?” he asks gently, the arms around Mikey’s waist just a tad too tight to be relaxed.

“God- Pete I- I love it.” 

He pulls back a little, looking down at his beautiful, thoughtful boyfriend. 

“I love you so fucking much,” he adds, kissing the top of Pete’s head and relishing in the soft sigh that earns him.

He tastes bleach and the realization that Pete really did cut and dye his own hair only makes that warm feeling inside him grow more.

“Mmmmh I love you too,” Pete says quietly, squeezing him one more time before letting go and stepping back. “Ready Zero?” 

Rolling his eyes, Mikey switches off the bathroom light. 

“And Pete?” he adds as an after thought, continuing when Pete gives a questioning hum as he links their hands together. “If you start trying to sing again at any point during this, I will not hesitate to leave your ass there and come home.”


	16. There Might Be Something Outside Your Window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
* Cursing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo day 15!!!!  
It's almost halfway through the month already! holy crap dudes. This is going by so fast but also taking a freaking eternity at the same time! I am so tired but doing this challenge is actually pretty fun. It's odd to not be working on a collective Thing but at the same time, I'm able to change things whenever I want.  
I felt like we needed a bit more fics from Mikey's perspective so that's why most of this week has been of his POV. Pretty soon we're gonna be in some more of Gee's and then I'm gonna mix Ray and Frank's for the final week. Gotta include all the bois ya know?  
Anyway, thanks to @pauladiazcruz for being such an amazing beta and helping me keep my shit together!!!  
Enjoy!
> 
> *Chapter title is from Planetary Go by My Chemical Romance*

Blinking up towards the dark ceiling above him, Mikey tries to figure out what woke him. 

The house is quiet, still, and there’s not even a breeze blowing outside. He can faintly hear the dull hum of electricity but that’s it.

There’s no car horns or his phone’s alarm so that rules out him over sleeping. Well, that and the fact that it’s pitch black in his room right now. 

He’s not hungry, he realizes a moment later as he’s going down a checklist of reasons he might be wide awake in the dead of night. Neither is he cold or too hot. 

It’s weird.

But this sorta thing wasn’t unusual a few years ago. His insomnia would kick in and he’d just wake up. For no reason he’d just be wide awake.

That was literally years ago though, so why would it come back now?

He tries to think, which is harder than it sounds when you’re definitely tired but somehow too awake to fall asleep. 

Mikey doesn’t think he’s particularly stressed or anything, nor is he really worried about anything either. 

Huh…

Must just be an off night.

He turns his head a bit, his eyes open but not seeing in the darkness surrounding him. It’s almost comforting though, like a heavy blanket that’s keeping him from feeling the need to get up.

Besides, he can lay here and waste time and there’ll be no consequences. He’s already awake anyway so staring into the darkness for a few hours won’t hurt anyone.

So Mikey lets his mind wonder. 

He thinks about what he might have for breakfast, maybe pancakes if he can work up the motivation to actually cook something rather than just microwaving everything. He’ll probably call his brother too. It’s been about a week now and he’s sure that Gee will be missing him. 

Maybe Mikey will actually go and visit. They could have lunch or something, just to catch up.

He’s gotta clean up first though. He’s been putting off cleaning for like a week now and his house is a disaster.

Lost in thought, Mikey doesn’t notice the shadows of his room shift. Not until they seem to merge together and collect into something almost human-shaped. The shadows rest in the corner of the room and though it has no eyes, no distinctions other than something that almost looks like arms and legs, Mikey slowly becomes aware that it’s looking at him.

Instantly, his skin runs cold and he finds himself holding his breath. If he moves it’ll know he’s awake. He’s not sure if it knows he’s here yet and honestly, he’s not too eager to find out what it does to people.

Is this gonna be like a horror movie? Where if he moves it’ll lunge at him and all that’ll be heard from him is a scream before that too is cut off by whatever the thing does to him.

Mikey shivers and squeezes his eyes shut. He counts to ten, willing this to just be a trick of his eyes against the oppressive darkness. 

When he looks back the thing is still there. It hasn’t moved but Mikey knows its seen him by now.

Mustering all of his courage, which honestly isn’t a lot, he reaches a shaking hand out from the covers. 

If he’s gonna get murdered by a demon, he’s gonna do it with the fucking light on. He’s not going to cower under his blankets like a scared little kid.

The air outside of his covers is cold, achingly so, and he sucks in a sharp breath as it hits his skin. He steels himself before twisting enough to reach for the cord of the lamp beside his bed.

“Don’t move.”  
Mikey freezes, the coldness from before settling deep in his chest and bones. The voice came from the thing in the corner, he’s sure of it. 

But it hadn’t sounded like a threat… more of a warning.

“Don’t move,” it repeats.  
It’s voice isn’t as low as he’d expected. It’s not baritone and gravely, instead it’s almost soft. It’s gentle. That’s the only word for the voice. Gentle. 

“They’re watching you.”  
Mikey can’t speak but he is able to quickly pull the covers back over him. If the demon in his room is warning him about someone- something else, he should probably listen. 

“Good,” it continues. “You’re safe for now but if you turn on the lights, they will come.”

He wants to demand to know who ‘they’ are but it’s as if his mouth itself is frozen shut. His nose burns from breathing in the harsh cold air but it’s as if he can’t open his mouth at all. 

“Stay still,” the thing warns, it’s tone now low.

Then a bright flash of light engulfs his room, so blinding and hot that Mikey squeezes his eyes shut reflexively. Only when, at last, the light fades, he risks opening them again.

The overhead light is on now, its illumination dull and almost uncomfortably normal. It fills the room and he can clearly see the corner where the thing had been. 

But it’s gone now- if it was ever there in the first place- and the air feels suddenly hot. Mikey flings off the top layer of blankets and sits up.

Suppressing a groan at how sore his body feels, he looks around for any sign that this wasn’t just a dream. Because that’s what it had to be right?  
It was a very vivid nightmare that was caused by stress or something. 

There’s no other explanation. 

Except the way his body feels heavy, achy, like he’s been running around in the sun for hours. And he definitely hasn’t done anything like that in a few months, the bitter January cold keeping him safely indoors.

And then there’s the light.  
It definitely wasn’t on when he went to bed, can vividly remember flicking the switch because he’d damn near tripped over a stray shoe in the process. Maybe he slept walked or something and turned on the light?

Yeah, that’s gotta be it. 

He had a nightmare, got up and turned on the light while still half asleep, and crawled into bed before waking up completely. He’s sore cause he probably was really tense or something while he was dreaming and he’s tired cause it’s like 3am. 

See, he tells himself, demons aren’t real. Stop being childish.

Even so, Mikey leaves the light on as he rolls over to go back to sleep, something in him telling him that if he were to turn it off, the thing would come back.

“Good night, demon,” he says to the empty room, already being pulled under by the exhaustion. “Thanks for saving my ass I guess.”  
“Sleep well, human.”


	17. Never Fade In The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
*swearing  
*mild blood  
*mentions of past character death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday everyone. I'm tired, you're probably tired, so I'm gonna post then and then go sleep for like 12 hours. Sound good? yeah.  
So, here's your obligatory Gee!vampire fic cause I mean c'mon, who would think that I Wouldn't do one??  
I gotta thank @pauladiazcruz for being such an amazing beta! She's great and this wouldn't be nearly as coherent as it is without her help!!!  
Enjoy guys!
> 
> *Chapter title is from The Light Behind Your Eyes by My Chem*

Gerard comes back to himself all at once, his senses snapping in place without warning.

The sound of a body hitting the ground. The blood he can feel dripping down his chin, staining his hands crimson. He can still taste it, metallic and sweet, lingering on his tongue. 

Now that the hunger, the burning and consuming hunger, is gone, Gerard can feel his stomach turn at the pitiful whimpers coming from his victim. Whoever it is is still alive, a miracle in itself, but they’re probably gonna die from exposure anyway.

Gerard’s not sure how long he drank from them, how much he took, but from the state of them it’s clear that if they don’t get out of the cold they're done for.

Maybe it's pity, or more likely guilt, that leads Gerard to wipe his mouth on the back of his sleeve and bend over to scoop the dying person up in his arms.

They’re small and barely conscious and for some reason, completely unknown to Gerard, they lean into his touch.

Whoever this is should be terrified of him, should fight him with every step he takes.

There’s a small church on the corner of this street, he passes it every day on his way to work. The preacher is an older man who’s helped Gerard on multiple occasions. He lives on the church property so Gerard’s certain that he'll be able to just knock this time and leave this person on the steps. The Father will take care of them and Gerard will have one less death on his hands.

He’s got enough as is, he thinks bitterly. It’s late, probably closer to morning than it is to midnight and so there’s no traffic as Gerard crosses the street. He’s thankful for that, less of a chance for witnesses.

When he makes it to the door, Gerard looks down at the human he’s holding.  
Even in the odd light of the church’s nearby street lamp, he can tell how pale their complexion is. Now that he’s not hungry, he’s unable to sense their pulse but he doesn’t need to check to know how rapid it is. 

They're covered in their own blood and he can feel it seeping into his clothes. The person is completely unconscious now, dead weight in his arms as he shifts them, purposefully ignoring how close he was to killing them, and knocks on the door.

He should just leave them here, leave them and sprint back home. But the Father has seen him like this before, covered in blood and hanging on to a fragile human life that he put in danger.

The preacher answers the door moments later, an eternity to Gerard.

“Hello?” he calls and Gerard notices how he’s dressed in a simple night shirt and sweatpants. 

“Father… please…” 

He doesn’t mean for this much desperation to seep into his words but he’s unable to fight it off. It’s building in his chest with each harsh gust of the wind and the tiny snowflakes beginning to fall. Each breath he takes is a struggle as he feels the body in his arms grow colder, whether from blood loss or the freezing temperature he’s not sure.

“Oh… Gerard,” his voice shifts, the importance of the situation hitting him as he rushes Gerard inside with a stiff wave of his arm. “Bring them to the nursery.”

Doing as he’s told, Gerard follows him to the small nursery in the back of the church and gingerly sets the person- his victim- down on one of the larger tables. He hasn't been to an actual church service in a long time but he’s pretty sure the kids use this table for arts and crafts.

It feels wrong, damning, that the blood pooling on the table right now is because of him.

He stands frozen as the Father bustles around, pulling out medical supplies and getting to work quickly. Gerard knows he keeps these things here for situations just like this one. 

On occasions when Gerard’s able to stop before he kills the person he’s feeding from, on occasions where they make it long enough to get here. 

It’s all so familiar but so foreign at the same time. 

You’d think it gets easier over time. 

It doesn’t.

But he’s stuck. If he feeds often, then more people would get hurt and he’d be taking less from each so they’d still be conscious enough to describe his appearance to the police. As is, he feeds maybe once a month, way less than he knows others of his kind do. But because of how long he waits, Gerard is nearly feral with hunger by the time he’s finally able to drag himself out to hunt.

He drains people dry in minutes. 

But sometimes, sometimes if the person is strong or Gerard is able to snap out of it, they’re still alive when he’s done.

On those nights, Gerard always comes here. 

He always brings the people to this church and Father patches them up. Gerard never stays after that, never waits for them to wake. 

“Gerard?” 

Glancing over, he notices that Father’s already finished with bandaging the bloody wound on the person’s neck. 

Gerard doesn’t allow himself to take in their features, to wonder where they could possibly have gotten so many tattoos. They’re covered in them, the harsh ink standing out against the pale blanket Father had draped over them.

Father sighs, the parental expression returning and making Gerard sick.

He doesn’t need this, doesn’t need the pity or the reassuring words.

“Are they gonna make it?” he questions coldly, surprised by how little emotion lines his own words.

“Yes. You’re getting better at stopping Gerard. He’ll probably wake up in the morning with a nasty headache though.”

“I almost killed him.”

“Gerard,” Father insists, “you haven't killed any of your hunts in months. You are getting better.”

“Tell that to him!”

Gerard doesn't mean to raise his voice but the way Father flinches as he does is enough for his anger to shrink.

“I’m sorry- I just… I hate this,” he admits, feeling like a small child, small and hopeless, and scared.

Because yeah, he might not have murdered anyone recently but he has before and he very likely will again. It’s just a matter of time.

He’s a monster.

“I know you do. And I cannot begin to understand what you must be going through or how you’re dealing with all of this. But what I do know is that you are not the monster you see yourself as.”

“How? How do you know?” Gerard asks helplessly, fighting back tears that have begun to prickle in his eyes. 

“Because you only take what you need. If you want my honest opinion, you don’t eat enough. You’re skin and bones Gerard! You starve yourself because you can’t stand hurting someone else for your own needs. And you’re not drinking your fill, you’re stopping before it’s too late-”  
“And what?” Gerard shouts defensively. “You want me to drain them dry?”  
“No. That’s not what I meant. Gerard, you see yourself as something horrible, a monster, but what I see is a man fighting with everything in him to remain himself. After everything life’s thrown at you, after Mikey-”  
“Don’t,” he pleads, the name sinking like lead against his mind. 

Memories drift into focus, memories of times he’s tried so hard to forget. Remembering only brings pain. 

Smiling sympathetically, Father continues.

“Everything you've gone through Gerard, you’re still you.” 

“I don’t feel like it.”

That earns him another sad smile as Father shakes his head.

“I know. I wish there was something I could say, something I could do to help you figure this out.”  
A low groan comes from the table where Gerard’s victim lies. 

They’re moving, their head lulling to the side as half-lidded eyes fight to focus on the two figures standing beside them.

“Whosethere?” they slur, confusion twisting on their features.

Gerard’s already out of the door by the time Father turns around. 

Noticing the return of his strength, at the cost of the stranger’s, Gerard takes off in a sprint. He leaves his victim and the priest behind, all the while praying that he won’t be in the same situation this time next month. 


	18. Jack-o- lanterns in July

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, this ones my first time writing this pairing so if it sucks, just please forgive me!  
Thanks to @@pauladiazcruz for betaing this and being such a big hell with this challenge!!!  
Enjoy!!  
*chapter title is from Phoenix by Fall out boy*

As Ray sets the last jack-o-lantern down on the porch steps, the sound of the front door opening has him turning around.  
Gerard steps out, wearing an oversized green jacket that goes down to their knees. Visible just below the bottom of the jacket and the tops of their boots are their favorite batman pajama pants. 

Looking down at his watch, Ray asks, “You do know you have 20 minutes before the first of the trick-or-treaters start coming up, right?”  
He knows for a fact that Gerard takes ages to get ready, especially in the case of Halloween costumes.  
“I’m almost ready,” they defend, even as they close the door behind them and step down to the walkway where Ray is.

Now that Ray has a moment to actually look at the house, he takes the time to admire the decorations they’ve put up. 

There’s fake cobwebs covering the bushes that run beside the hand rail to their porch as well as purple lights glowing along the roof. Ray had set up a mildly creepy scarecrow in a folding chair by the door and there’s those cute window stickers covering their front door and windows. 

Add in the carved pumpkins they just finished and Ray is certain that they’re gonna have a shit-ton of trick-or-treaters tonight. 

He tries to ignore the fact that the guy who lives next to them was the one who destroyed their last pumpkins on “accident”. If he tries that shit again, Ray’s already got the water hose hooked up and waiting.

For the time being, he wraps an arm around Gee’s waist.The bitter air seems to be cutting through their layers, making them shiver against him from the cold. Gee leans into his touch as Ray takes a deep breath.

This feels like a scene in a movie. Just the two of them standing here, admiring the decorations that they’ve put up together. 

Ray can smell the softer sent of Gerard’s body wash, their long hair wet against his shoulder. He can hear their quiet sigh of contentment. 

Their asshole of a neighbor is forgotten, as is how little time they have before the neighborhood kids will begin setting out. It’s just him and Gerard.

“Can I give out candy this year?” they ask softly, turning to look at him.

He shrugs and moves to hold their hand instead. 

“I don’t see why not.”

Gerard beams, even as a soaking strand of dark hair falls in their eyes. They push it behind their ear in a way that should not be as attractive as it is before leaning over to kiss him. 

When they pull apart moments later, Ray can practically see Gerard’s teeth clattering. Only they would go out in fucking October with wet hair. It’s like they’re trying to get sick.

“Go change. I’ll take door duty until you get ready.”

They nod eagerly and plant one more kiss, this time on his cheek, before hurrying inside. Ray shakes his head but he’s smiling all the same. 

The sun is going down, casting beautiful shades of blue and purple over the trees in the distance. Ray can hear the first excited trick-or-treaters making their way down the street, can smell the sweetness of the little goody bags in the bowl in his hand. He and Gerard had put them together, just a few bits of candy and a themed sticker in each. 

They’ve got about 50 bags and he’s only sorta hoping that there will be some left over for them to eat later.

Ray sits on the couch since it’s right by the door and puts on The Nightmare Before Christmas. They’d already had the disk in so all he’d had to do was hit play. The familiar, nostalgic, music and opening scenes fill the room. It brings a smile to Ray’s face.

He can hear Gee getting ready down the hall, the door left open probably so they could hear the movie. When the first song starts playing, Ray listens to Gerard singing along. He pictures the little dance they’re probably doing while getting ready.

It’s not long before the doorbell rings and Ray’s standing quickly to greet their first trick-or-treater of the night. He swings the door open, a grin already plastered on his face as a chorus of “trick or treat!” rings out.

There’s four kids on the porch, not bad for the first of the night, and a parent standing back at the beginning of the walkway. He nods to them and then compliments the kids on their costumes. 

One kid is wearing a Transformers costume, home made from the looks of it and really well done if he does say so himself. And another kid is wearing a dinosaur costume. There’s a character he only vaguely recognizes from Minecraft and then a clown as well. Not bad. 

“Here ya go,” he says, the genuine smile still plastered on his face as he drops a bag in each of the kid’s hands. 

There’s a reason this is his favorite time of the year. That wide eyed smile on those kids' faces, the excitement that they always have. It’s what makes Ray love this so much. 

The kids thank him and he closes the door as they walk away. 

“Aw,” Gee’s voice comes from the hallway, “ did I miss the first of the night?”

They look heartbroken and Ray can’t help but kiss the little frown lines on their face. 

“Stop,” they whine. “I’m trying to be upset that you took the first group!”

But they’re laughing as they pull him in for a real kiss. 

The doorbell rings again and they pull apart. Ray can’t help but chuckle at the way Gerard tries to keep kissing him. But then the doorbell goes a second time and they finally catch up.

“Mine! I call it!” they stage whisper, grabbing the bowl from his hands and bounding to the door.

He helped them make the costume but Ray is still caught up in the intricacy of what Gerard is wearing. It’s a Jack Skellington costume and they’ve captured every single detail of the character.

They’d even painted the suit to make them look as bony as Jack does in the movie. The face paint was the only thing Gerard had to do tonight, and what took them so long to do, but Ray can tell why they put so much time into it. It’s both attractive and kinda creepy how well of a skeleton Gerard looks like with all that face paint and makeup.

He can hear them laughing with the kids at the door, telling them how good their costumes are. 

When they come back inside and plop down on the couch beside him, Ray laces their fingers together. Together they watch a few more minutes of the movie before there’s another knock on the door. 

“Got it!” Gee shouts, jumping up just as enthusiastically as before.  
Ray pauses the movie and sneaks into the kitchen. He quickly goes about making both of them steaming cups of hot chocolate, even putting whipped cream and sprinkles in Gee’s because he knows how much they like it.

By the time he’s back in the living room, they’re already handing the baggies to the next group of kids. He grabs a blanket before sitting back down on the couch because with the door opening so often, the chill is really setting in. 

“Here,” he says, offering Gee their mug. 

They smile, eyes bright just like the kids at the door, as they take the mug carefully. He lays the blanket over both of their laps and settles in.

Gerard gets up a few moments later to answer the door but Ray doesn’t mind. Not when he can hear the laughter in their voice as a kid, an older one from the sound of it, explains their costume. 

Even after the movie is over and the kids stop coming, the winter truly setting in now, Ray stays on the couch with Gee. They’ve fallen asleep at some point, makeup probably staining the couch but he doesn’t care. 

Their face is pressed against his shoulder, soft little snores escaping them as they curl up against him. It’s insanely adorable and he thinks that no one should have the right to be so cute. 

Pulling the blanket up to cover them a bit more, Ray lets Gerard sleep a little longer. He’ll wake them soon, sleeping on the couch is not exactly comfortable, even with Ray as a pillow. Or maybe he’ll carry them, he’s strong enough and they’re more than light enough. 

Either way, as the light of the jack-o-lanterns outside fade and the first hours of November fall over Ray, he wishes for this moment to never end.  
Because tomorrow there will be jobs and grocery shopping, bills and traffic. But right now, for a moment that feels separated from the rest of time, none of that matters.

All that is important is the comfortable weight of Gerard against him and the softness of their skin as he kisses their forehead.


	19. You Made My Fever Spike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
* cursing  
*mentions of blood  
*illnesses  
*vomit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
The only reason this one fits with the challenge is cause Gee's a vampire in it. But honestly I just wanted to write yet another sick fic to go along with the billions of others on this site. Oh well.  
Thank you to @pauladiazcruz for betaing this even though she's sick!! <3
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!  
*Chapter title is from Medicine Square Garden by Frank Iero and the Future Violents*

The sound of retching is what wakes Frank.

He lies there for a while, trying to figure out where the sound is coming from and whether or not he should just go back to bed. 

It’s not until he hears the pitiful groan come from the bathroom connected to his room that the pieces fit together. In an instant he’s out of the bed and standing in the pale light of the bathroom.

He finds Gerard bent over the toilet seat, heaving violently as he groans again, the sound painful enough to break Frank’s heart. 

He crouches down and uses one hand to rub what he hopes are soothing circles on Gerard’s back, while his other moves to hold some of the stray strands of hair away from his face. Frank can feel the heat coming off of Gerard, can feel him shake through this last round of heaves. 

When Gerard is finally done, Frank helps him lean against his chest. He reaches up, flushing the toilet as a second thought before wrapping his arms back around his boyfriend. 

After giving Gerard enough time to catch his breath, he guides him up and into a standing position. 

Frank ends up having to hold him up while he brushes his teeth when Gerard nearly collapses back down onto the bathroom floor the second Frank let's go of him. 

And he can feel it, can feel the worry, the concern, bubbling up in his chest but Frank makes an effort to push it down. He has bigger priorities at the moment.

Such as deciding whether or not Gerard is standing steadily enough for a shower right now. Because there's definitely a few new stains on his pajamas and some in his hair too.

Plus, warm water and steam will probably help with the fever right?  
Frank’s pretty sure he read somewhere that you’re supposed to sweat out fevers. You’d think he knows this stuff, seeing as he’s the one who’s always sick, but normally he’s not paying attention to which remedies work. Mostly he’s just sleeping and being miserable. 

Right now though, he wishes he’d paid a bit more attention. 

“C’mon Gee, help me here a sec,” he coaxes, his mind made up as he lets go of Gerard with one hand.

Gerard manages a shaky nod despite the deep, dark shadows that cling under his eyes. 

Together they get Gerard stripped down and Frank works quickly to turn on the shower. He waits impatiently for it to heat up, noticing when Gerard starts to shiver. Wrapping an arm around his shoulder, Frank lets him lean on him until finally, fucking finally, the tap is hot enough. He guides Gerard in, ready to steady him should he need to. And yeah, Gerard is shaky but he manages to get in on his own. 

“Are you alright while I go ‘n grab you some more pjs?” Frank asks, only leaving once he hears Gerard’s mumbled affirmation.

He quickly gathers the most comfortable clothes he can find and hurries back into the bathroom. As he walks in, Gerard is shutting off the water and pulling the curtains back.

Frank’s heart melts, as does some of his anxiety, when Gerard flashes him a brief, relieved smile and steps out of the shower. He helps him wrap a towel around his shoulders, pressing a gentle kiss on his too warm forehead. 

They stand there for a bit, Gerard resting his head on Frank’s shoulder as he sways a little. The bathroom is warm, full of steam, and Frank swears that Gerard nods off for a second. 

“Here,” he prompts, carefully letting go of Gerard in case he is still too unsteady.

But Gerard stands a little easier this time as they once again work together, this time to get him dressed. Even so Frank can’t help but notice how shaky he is, how heavily he’s breathing from such a simple act. 

It’s times like these where he wishes he had the same strength Gerard does, that same inhuman strength that allows him to cary Frank to bed when he’s too sick to walk. The ability to smell the sickness in him before he shows the signs and be able to plan for it. 

But Frank’s just human. 

And Gerard’s not heavy by any means but Frank still doesn’t want to test his luck trying to carry him to bed. Even though he’s clearly more pale than normal and is having trouble simply standing.

So, Frank works with what he has. 

He wraps one arm around Gerard’s waist so that he can lean on him as much as he needs as they make their way back to the bed. Finally there, Frank carefully tucks him into the now cooled sheets. Gerard’s eyes are fluttering in the low light as he fights off sleep. Typical.

“Go to sleep,” he insists gently, moving a couple of stray strands of hair from his eyes. 

He lets his touch linger, feels the heat still coming from Gerard’s skin.  
“Mmh but- Frank-”

“No buts. I’ll see if I can find some medicine you can take but for now you need to sleep this off,” he says a bit more forcefully.

Gerard makes a vague humming sound, that could either be an agreement or a whine, Frank’s not sure, and finally closes his eyes. Thankfully he’s asleep in moments.

Frank watches him for a while, making sure he’s sleeping well and that he’s not going to wake up again to throw up. Honestly, Frank desperately wishes to crawl back into bed, to curl up and go back to sleep and wait for nightfall to deal with all of this.

But he doesn’t.

He instead goes about cleaning the bathroom as quietly as he can. It ends up being a lot more messy than he’d first thought though. Lets just say he trashes Gerard’s toothbrush and bleaches the ever loving fuck out of the toilet just to be safe.

After a good hour or so, Frank happens to look down at his shirt to find a rather large stain of sick somehow splattered right across his chest. Doing his best not to gag, ‘cause he’s pretty sure that’s rude when the person, especially his boyfriend, didn’t mean to puke on him, he strips off the offending article as fast as he can.

After a very quick shower, he sets off to try and find some sort of medicine that his sick vampire boyfriend can actually fucking take.

See, normal medicine, and in most cases, illnesses, don’t really affect Gerard. The vampire venom in him is strong enough to fight off most of it. But there are a few specific viruses that exclusively affect vampires or are potent enough to actually make him ill. 

Because of this, on the off chance Gerard does get sick- and this is the first time since Frank has met him - they have to be careful of which treatments they try. 

Antibiotics don’t work because only viruses can make vampires sick. So that leaves medications made to treat the symptoms of the virus.

But again, Frank’s aware that a lot of them simply don’t work for the same reason that normal illnesses don’t take hold on people like Gerard. His body or, well the venom in his body is able to completely counteract most medicines. 

Frank’s fairly certain Gerard would know which ones he can and can’t take but he’s honestly not about to go wake him. He needs to rest and until they can get the right meds that’s probably his best bet.

So Frank does the next best thing.

He pulls out his phone and plops down at the kitchen island with a tired sigh. 

It takes four rings before anyone picks up.

“Hello?” says the groggy voice on the other end.

Briefly Frank feels bad for waking him up at, he checks the time, 3 in the afternoon, but it’s for a good reason.

“Hey, Mikey.”  
“Do you know what time it is?” he hears Mikey ask bitterly.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry but I wouldn’t call at this kinda hour if it wasn’t important.”

There’s a pause.  
“What’s wrong?”  
He takes a deep breath and watches the small beams of sunlight that are escaping from the tops of the curtains. There’s little specks of dust floating around, illuminated in those weak sunbeams. 

“Gee’s sick,” he says at last. “And I know I’ve never seen him sick before but- but it feels bad Mikey. Like I’m really worried ‘cause he threw up for fuck knows how long and then he could barely fucking walk back to bed and-”  
“Frank,” Mikey interrupts. “Symptoms. You gotta give me something to go by or I can’t help you.”

Mikey sounds more awake now and Frank can distatly hear the sounds of a coffee pot being turned on through the phone.

“Uh- like I said, he was puking his guts up when I found him. And like I dunno how long he threw up for but it was a while. The bathroom was a fuckin’ mess.”  
“Gross,” Mikey deadpans, though there’s sympathy laced in there as well. “Was it food or blood?”  
“Food. I think. I wasn’t really looking Mikey.”

Frank runs a hand down his face, all the stress pooling together and making him exhausted.

“It’s important. Because if he’s throwing up blood that means the virus is fighting his vampiric side rather than his human side.”

“Uh… yeah I’m pretty sure it was just normal food bits.”  
“Okay that’s good. We’re narrowing it down,” Mikey says and Frank hears a coffee mug clink on the counter through the line.  
He could really go for some coffee right now. He doesn’t make any move to get up though.  
“So,” Frank continues with some effort. “He’s really weak. I had to help him a lot to just get ‘im into bed. Shaky too but I got him in the shower and that seemed to help. Oh, he’s got a fever too. I should probably take his temperature though right?”

“Yeah,” Mikey says instantly. “You’ve narrowed it down a lot but seeing how high his fever is will help even more.”  
So Frank goes back into the bedroom, phone still pressed to his ear. He finds the thermometer in the one of the cabinets in the bathroom while Mikey talks him through what to do.  
Vaguely he wonders how often Mikey’s had to do this for Gerard. It seems too practiced, too routine for this to be the first time Gerard’s gotten sick.

All the same, Frank goes over to the bed and gently shakes his shoulder to wake him. There's a brief pause and then soft, hazel eyes blink tiredly up at him.

“Here, Mikey says I gotta take your temperature,” he tells Gerard.  
It’s an awkward few minutes, which honestly feel like an eternity, where he’s just standing there holding the thermometer in Gerard’s mouth. Frank feels the worry surface once again when Gerard’s lets his eyes fall shut, as if staying awake is too great of a feat right now.

Finally the little metal thing beeps and Frank takes it out of Geard’s mouth. He squints to read the numbers and relays them to Mikey through the phone.

“Yeah, that’s definitely a fever but it’s not too bad. My best guess is that what’s got him sick is basically the equivalent of a stomach bug.”

“Okay so what do I do?” Frank asks, already feeling the weight lifting now that he knows that this isn’t that bad. 

It’s just a stomach bug, why is he freaking out?

He gets those all the freaking time!

“Tylenol, that’ll help with the fever. Keep him hydrated, water will work but blood is better. Also, make sure he takes it easy for a while. Lots of rest, that’s the biggest thing. He’s gonna get restless in a day or two once he starts feeling better but don’t let the idiot over do it.”

“Okay,” Frank says, attempting to store the information Mikey’s just given him. “You said blood would help get him better faster-”

“I said it’d keep him hydrated better yes,” Mikey interrupts but Frank can hear the smirk in his words.  
“So then is it safe to let him drink from me? Like, I won’t get sick too right?”

There’s a pause as Mikey thinks it over. 

Gerard’s hand comes out of the covers, reaching to pull Frank over so he’s sitting down on the bed with him. He makes a soft, pleased sound and lays his head on Frank’s lap. Idly Frank starts playing with his hair, smiling at the low hum Gerard makes as he does so.

“I- I’m not sure about that Frank,” Mikey says at last. “I mean I can’t guarantee that you won’t get sick too but fresh blood would be best for Gee.”

“Then I’ll just stick to water then. I can't take care of him if I’m sick too.”

“Wait a day or two, after that he shouldn’t have any chance of being contagious. Don’t let him drink a lot but even a little will do him good. Gee’s an idiot but he should know better than to take a lot and make himself sick. Hopefully.”

“He can hear you, you know,” Gerard’s raspy voice speaks up, fake annoyance dripping in his words.  
Frank hears Mikey snort and he has to hold back his own laugh at the disgruntled look on Gerard’s face.

“Good then maybe you’ll listen and actually tell someone when you’re getting sick,” Mikey chides through the phone.  
He never raises his voice but with Gerard’s inhuman hearing, Frank knows he’s heard his brother’s words.

“It wasn’t bad until tonight,” he raps, nudging Frank’s hand with his head to get him to start playing with his hair again. 

“Yeah. Sure. Frank, just give him the tylenol and some water for now. Call me later if he’s not better okay?”

“Okay, I will. Thanks again Mikey.” 

“Anytime, night.”

Frank absently tosses his phone onto the nightstand as he watches Gerard slowly begin to doze off again. He watches him sleep briefly before carefully standing to go in search of the things Mikey mentioned. Gerard makes a whiny, half-asleep noise when he moves, curling up in the blankets. 

“I’ll be right back,” he tells him, though there’s no response as he heads into the bathroom.

He comes back with both items in hand before setting them down on the nightstand. Shaking Gerard a little to rouse him, earning him a pretty pitiful glare, Frank gets him to take the meds as well as the water. He doesn’t fight him though, for which Frank's honestly grateful.

When he’s done, Gerard collapses back onto the pillows and groans.  
“You good?” Frank teases.

“Nope. I’m dying.”

Suppressing a laugh, Frank shakes his head at the overly dramatic pose Gerard is in now. He’s got his head tilted to the side, his long hair curling against the pillow, with one arm draped over his eyes.

“Well if you’re dying I guess I can’t cuddle with you can I?”

“That’s mean,” Gerard whines, throwing in a fake cough or two. 

"Like I'd be able to say no to you."

He rolls his eyes for good measure but crawls under the covers anyway.

Gerard curls next to him instantly and he's asleep once again in moments. Suppressing a smile, Frank holds him a little tighter and settles in.

He doesn’t plan on moving for a while anyway. 


	20. If You Look in the Mirror (and don't like what you see)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
*cursing as always  
*sorta suicidal thoughts? definitely lots of self-hate but it's not really specified

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 19!!!  
shit we have like 11 days left of this month. Excuse my shitty math if that's wrong. It's late and I had an exam today. Fight me.  
As always I wanna thank @pauladiazcruiz for betaing for me and helping me make this as Fun as possible.  
Enjoy!  
*Chapter title is from The End by My Chem*

He thought this would work.

It was supposed to work. 

But something’s wrong, Mikey can feel something is wrong. This is supposed to block his powers and yeah, he never assumed it’d be pleasant but this is so much worse than what he’d expected. 

Mikey bursts from the bedroom, moving as quickly as he can to the living room. His hands are shaking so badly that he’s struggling to hold onto the vial clutched in his hand but he grips it as tightly as he can.

Breathing heavily and with spots dancing in front of his vision, he finally makes it round the couch and comes face to face with his brother. 

Gerard looks half asleep, though his eyes slowly widen as he takes in Mikey’s obvious panic. If he could speak over the burning in his throat then he would already be trying to explain what’s wrong. But he can’t, his chest far too tight and his throat seemingly closed shut. Darkness begins to creep towards the edges of his vision and Gerard is left to struggle to catch him as Mikey’s knees finally give out. 

He barely hears the shocked sound his brother makes as he reaches out to catch him. But Gerard doesn’t move fast enough and Mikey distantly feels his harsh impact with the living room floor. He lies there for a moment, too disoriented to even begin to try and get up, before Gerard’s lifting him up and pulling him so he’s leaning against him.

“Mikey?” he calls breathlessly, panic gripping his tone. 

With shaking hands, Mikey fumbles to hand his brother the glass vial he is somehow still holding. Everything is beginning to fade into blurry shapes and colors and he can’t help but think that he really fucked up this time…

“What is-” Gerard turns the bottle over, revealing the label. “Seriously Mikey?!”

“I thought it’d help…” he protests weakly.

It was no secret he hated who he was, what he was. Magic wasn’t a gift, it was a curse he’d been trying to rid himself off for years. 

This had seemed to be his way out but he hadn’t thought it’d hurt this badly, hadn’t counted on the burning pain of his magic being snuffed out. But that’s what the guy had promised wasn’t it?

One small vial and his magic would be pushed so far under the surface that it’d be impossible for it to ever come back.

“Mikey…” 

“I-” he coughs, unconsciously clinging a little tighter to his brother. “I just want it to go away.”  
“Shit… Mikey I-” 

Mikey can feel when Gerard’s magic kicks in. He feels it sink down. 

It burns, sending fire through him. But… it’s almost comforting in a way. 

This is familiar, Gerard healing him. 

It’s a different kind of burn, almost like holding onto a mug that’s nearly too hot. Pleasant but just on the side of uncomfortable. 

He can feel Gerard fighting against the poison he drank, trying to counter it before Mikey loses his powers for good.  
But does he even want them to be saved?

That’s the whole reason he did this in the first place. 

He’s tired of not having any friends. He’s tired of lying and saying he’s got fucking Church on Sundays when he’s actually spending the day slaving over stupid spells. You’d think magic would be fun, freeing even. 

But it’s not. 

It’s memorization and the disappointed look in his teacher’s eyes when he forgets something as basic as which herbs go in what.

But then you have Gerard, who’s aced every test their teacher has put him though. He memorizes everything easily, knows what goes where and exactly the right enunciation to make the spell get that extra kick.

Gerard was made for this. 

His brother has friends, has people who he’s able to hang out with because he’s not a danger for fucking sneezing and setting something on fire. 

It’s a miracle Mikey’s not homeschooled, if he’s honest. Or locked away.

“Damn it Mikey,” he hears his brother curse hoarsely, his magic growing stronger as he fights harder.

If Gerard is struggling to fight this, maybe it can’t be fixed.

Maybe that’s a good thing.

The pain should fade soon enough anyway and then the magic that’s cursed him his entire fucking life will finally be gone. He’ll finally be normal.

“Sorry…” 

And he means it, oddly enough. Maybe not for trying to get rid of his magic but absolutely for the fear that he can see on his brother’s face. Gerard looks terrified, straining to fight this.

Mikey feels light, almost drunk, as Gerard’s magic grows stronger. The room is glowing faintly and he realizes that his brother is still holding him.

He’s safe… protected in Gerard’s embrace.  
‘Cause even though his brother has excelled in everything Mikey has failed, he’s always felt the safest, the most at ease, with Gerard nearby. 

“You’re an idiot, Mikey,” Gerard tells him forcefully, something in his tone helping Mikey think clearly for just a moment. “That shit doesn’t just fucking hide your magic.” 

What does he mean?  
What else is gonna happen to him?

But Gerard doesn’t answer, he just closes his eyes. His face twists harshly in concentration as Mikey begins to truly feel the lead in his bones now. It’s like he’s being pulled under, his vision blurring completely now and his mind slowing to a crawl.

He doesn’t even realize he’s unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe this is that Sad one I told you about.  
Yeah it's been a rough week for me, mostly college kicking my ass, and so i vent by writing sad shit. Figures. but yeah, this will have a part two cause I can't seem to write short things and the ending isn't quite finished yet.
> 
> Also, i thrive off of feedback and hearing your guys' thoughts always makes my day. So, if you're enjoying this, hell even if you're hating it, leave a kudos or a comment to let me know I'm not just screaming into the void ya know?


	21. And You Can't Touch My Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
*cursing  
*blood/fighting  
*talk of suicidal thoughts (or the lack thereof)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evening everyone!  
I wanna thank @pauladiazcruz for helping me edit this!  
Okay, I'm really tired so that's all I'm gonna say tonight. Enjoy!!
> 
> *chapter title is from Honey This Mirror Isnt Big Enough For The Two Of Us by My Chem*

Gerard is pissed.  
So unbelievably beyond angry that there’s not even words to describe how furious he is with his brother.

He knows Mikey has a harder time with his magic, he knows that his brother’s struggling, but to fucking try and get rid of his magic like this?! 

What makes it worse is that he’d chugged the damn vial with Gerard right in the next room. If Mikey hadn’t realized something was wrong, that things were off…

The only reason he’s still breathing is because he came to Gerard. If he’d stayed in his room and let the poison work for just a minute longer, he wouldn’t be alive right now.

Simple as that.

Whoever sold him that curse obviously didn’t tell him that it was basically fucking poison. On second thought, Gerard prays that Mikey didn’t know, that he wasn’t trying to…

Because sure, theoretically this sort of potion could force someone’s powers to be dormant, but that’s only if it doesn’t kill you first. And the chances of it killing whoever is dumb enough to drink it are very fucking high. 

Gerard had meant to yell, truly he did. He wanted to yell and get it through Mikey’s thick fucking skull that he damn near killed himself with this stunt. 

Right now though, with his baby brother looking up at him with tear filled eyes a whole 24 hours later, Gerard can’t be mad at him. Or at least, he can’t yell. 

All that anger is gone, replaced with that inherent need to protect Mikey, for him to be there for him.

In a way, this is Gerard’s fault. He should have seen how upset Mikey was, should have done something before he tried to do something like this.

“I-Im sorry,” Mikey whispers, clinging to Gerard like he’s terrified he’s going to leave.

“Shhh. It’s okay, I’m right here.”

After a long while, long after the light fades from outside and the darkness takes its hold on the world around them, Mikey calms down. His grip lessens and he’s able to sit up a bit, with Gerard’s help.

As he helps Mikey get the blankets situated around him to fight off the slight chill to the apartment- Gerard has the heating turned up all the way but there’s a cold snap outside- Gerard can’t help but watch his brother carefully.

His eyes are downcast, dark shadows prominent underneath them. His hand shakes as he tries to help Gerard with the blankets. Somehow he looks smaller, tiny under the mass of quilts and throw blankets Gerard has assembled. 

“Please stop looking at me like that,” Mikey whispers, his voice cracking in the process.

“Sorry- I just-”  
Gerard sighs, completely unsure of what to say in this situation.

“You know that I love you right?” he says instead of the many other ways he could take this conversation.

“Yeah… I love you too Gee…”

He needs to just rip off the metaphorical bandage, tell Mikey the truth and get it over with. 

“You almost died.”

Mikey’s head jerks up, his tired eyes finally meeting Gerard’s. 

“The potion you took, it was killing you,” he continues as he looks down, watching the blankets twist in Mikey’s fists. “If I hadn’t- if you hadn’t come to me when you did, Mikey, you-”

He can’t finish, the words stuck in his throat making it impossible. Gerard can feel his own hands shaking, something between fear and anger and pain coursing through him. 

“Tell me why,” Gerard says at last, “Please. You said some things in the moment but I want to hear it from you now. Why would you take it?”

Mikey sucks in a breath, his eyes darting between Gerard and his own bedroom door that sits at the edge of the livingroom. For a moment Gerard fears that he’s gonna run but eventually Mikey does look back at him, his eyes slowly brimming with tears again.

“I just wanna be normal,” he whispers, falling forward a bit and basically collapsing against Gerard’s chest.

There’s nothing he can do but wrap his arms around Mikey and hold him. He’s not crying this time, at least Gerard doesn’t think so, but he’s shaking like a fucking leaf. 

Gerard starts to hum, just random sounds to fill the air in some attempt to calm his brother down. And it works. Slowly, the tension begins to melt from Mikey and he pulls away a few moments later. With a huff, Mikey falls back against the backrest of the couch.

He looks too pale, too worn to be a teenager. His eyes are red and more than a little puffy now and Gerard can’t help but want to try and heal him some more. 

So he does.

Gently he puts his hand on Mikey’s shoulder, rubbing it slightly to relieve some of the residual tension while his magic gets to work. 

Mikey doesn’t protest, thankfully. If anything, his leans into the touch, his eyes falling closed. Gerard can tell how exhausted he is.

Normally, healing someone who also has magic is a challenge. Their energy will try and fight yours off until it realizes you’re helping them rather than hurting them. But right now, there’s no resistance. Nothing. 

Gerard’s fairly certain that the potion didn’t work, that Mikey still has his magic. At the moment though, it seems that his magic is truly buried like he’d wanted. It’ll likely be a while- how long exactly Gerard isn’t sure- before his abilities are back to normal, if they ever get to that point again.  
But just barely, hidden under layers and layers of nothing, Gerard can still sense Mikey’s magic. It’s dormant, sleeping and so fucking fragile, but it’s there and he’s holding onto hope that it’ll recover.  
Somehow, Gerard’s not really sure how, he’s managed to stop the curse before it did any permanent damage. They've gotten extremely lucky.

But Mikey’s magic is very weak, barely even there if he’s honest, and it stands as a testimony as to what had happened. 

“I wasn’t trying to,” Mikey whispers into the quiet a few moments later.

Gerard’s finished the healing spell and he’s tired once again, his own magic strained thin from the effort of saving Mikey the day before. He takes a deep breath and tries to follow Mikey’s train of thought.

“Trying to what?”

“I wasn’t trying to die,” he forces out, the words coming clipped and painful.

It’s enough to make Gerard’s chest tighten, his arms wrap a little more tightly around his brother’s bony shoulders. 

“But I- I wanted my magic gone. I hate it Gee. I hate not being normal, not being good at either fucking side and just being stuck in between. Maybe without it I could be normal…”

“Not to be cliche or whatever but… Mikey, normal isn’t a fucking thing. I’m not normal, no one is. That’s the whole point.”  
“Yeah but like- you have friends and- and you don’t only have me to hang out with.”  
“What?” Gerard asks, shifting a bit so that Mikey can rest his head on his shoulder. 

“I only ever hang out with you, and I love it, but Gee, whenever you’re busy with your friends and I’m alone I just- I hate it. ‘Cause you can do that, you can go and do shit without your annoying baby brother and all I can do it sit at home.”  
“Mikey,” Gerard insists, “Do you seriously think that I am choosing my friends over you?”  
He nods, just barely and Gerard feels his heart shatter in his chest at the realization. Because they’re both so tired, it's a miracle this conversation is even happening, but maybe this is more important.

“Then that is on me for ever making you feel less important than whoever I’m hanging out with on some random ass day.”

“Even Ray?” Mikey asks weakly, his shining eyes looking up at Gerard almost hopefully.

“Even him. You’re my baby brother Mikey. I’d rather hang out with you than any of them. But I thought you wouldn’t want to go with me when I’m with them. I mean we’re all older and I figured it wouldn’t be fun for you.”  
Mikey hums quietly as he palms a little at his eyes.

“And just because I have friends,” Gerard continues, “Does not make me at all normal. Dude we just fucking go to Walmart at 2am ‘cause there’s literally nothing else to do. I shit you not, last time we went out, we went to a Walmart and stole a box of crayons. It’s just sitting in my car. I have no use for it.”

Mikey begins to shake against him and for a moment Gerard’s terrified that he’s said the wrong thing and that he’s crying again. But a second later he recognizes the sound of Mikey laughing. Actually fucking laughing.  
Sure, it’s weak and a little dry but he’s laughing and- fuck- Gerard’s gonna take it. 

“Yeah. It’s fuckin’ pointless Mikey. I’m not cool or normal or any of that shit. The last time you had a long weekend we sat and played DnD for 12 hours on fucking accident. Like, that’s not a normal person thing. But it’s okay. Cause we had a blast.”  
“Yeah,” Mikey admits, the laughing having died down but his eyes remaining just a little brighter than before. “Yeah that was really fun.”  
“And it wouldn’t have been half as fun if we didn’t fuck with the rules by using our magic.”

The last remnants of the smile fall from Mikey’s face and with it that bubbly feeling of relief that had begun to form in Gerard’s chest. He’d thought they were making progress. Mikey had agreed that neither of them were normal, that he’d had fun the other day. But maybe it’s deeper than that. 

“I’m sorry.”

“No. No Mikey you have nothing to be sorry for I-”  
“I made you freak out. You’re still freaking out right now and you look exhausted and it’s my fault and I just-”

“Hey,” he takes hold of Mikey’s hands, stopping them from pulling on his hair anymore. “Hey. Don’t apologize for me worrying. It’s what I do. It’s my fucking job.”

“Yeah but-”  
“I love you. And if anything, it’s me who fucked up. I should’a paid more attention and been there for you before it got bad enough for you to resort to something like this.” 

“I didn’t know,” Mikey whispers desperately as he allows Gerard to move his hands away from his hair. “Chris didn’t tell me that it’d kill me. He just said it’d make it go away.”

Gerard shushes him gently, mentally cataloging the name for later.  
“I know. It’s okay though; it didn’t work.”

“It didn’t?”  
Fuck, he almost sounds hopeful and that alone is enough for Gerard to be able to force something close to a smile onto his face.  
“Your magic is stronger than you think.”

“I don’t feel it…”

“The potion really took a toll; you’re probably gonna be down for a while,” Gerard explains gently, noticing the way Mikey’s eyes are fluttering. “Get some sleep Mikes, you need it.”  
“So do you.”

“Sleep,” he says a little more forcefully, carefully avoiding saying that he’s going to rest.  
Thankfully, Mikey seems too tired to notice his little white lie. 

As he sleeps, Gerard carefully extracts himself from his hold. He quickly and quietly grabs his jacket, then his keys, and heads out the door.

_______________________________

Mikey wakes up slowly.

His head hurts a bit, the low throb spurred on by the pale light of the fading sun through the living room window. When he sits it feels like every muscle in his body protests the movement but after a moment of struggling, finally he’s sitting up. 

Surveying the room around him through half-opened eyes, Mikey finds it to be more messy than he’d remembered.

There’s books scattered everywhere, each one open and displaying pages that his eyes just can’t focus on. On the coffee table sits a glass of water and Mikey finds himself downing it before the thought even finishes registering.  
The cool water feels like heaven for his dry throat and he absently wonders if he’d thrown up. After drinking that potion maybe part of Gerard’s healing had made his body expel the toxins or whatever. 

Speaking of, Gerard is nowhere to be seen.

With the amount of concern and fear on his face the last time Mikey was awake, you’d think that Gerard would be his normal, hovering self.

But the house around Mikey is quiet, still.

“Gee?” he calls anyway, unable to not notice how hoarse his voice sounds.

He feels like shit, all achy and weak for some reason. Letting his eyes fall shut after a few more seconds with no reply, Mikey drifts off without even realizing it.

____  
The door slamming shut jolts Mikey awake. He flails a bit before twisting around to peer over the back of the couch just as Gerard stumbles in.

He gasps audibly, eyes catching on the blood pouring from Gerard’s nose and the arm he’s got wrapped around his middle.

“Gee? Are you alright?”

Mikey’s already standing up, pushing aside the numerous blankets to raise onto unsteady legs. He holds on to the armrest of the couch for balance.

“I’m fine,” Gerard assures, waving off handedly.  
“You don’t look fine.”

Some of his hair is falling into his face, dark strands sticking grotesquely to the blood smeared on his face. A part of Mikey prays that it’s not Gerard’s own. But that in and of itself brings more worry to him.

“Got punched in the face. S’nothin’,” Gerard slurs slightly, leaning with a free hand against the kitchen counter.

If the kitchen wasn't so far away from the couch, Mikey would already be over there. He would be easing Gerard down onto the couch and healing him with his magic before they even had this conversation.

But Mikey knows for a fact that he won’t make it to the kitchen should he try to walk, even though it’s maybe four total steps from where he is, through the kitchen and to the door. On top of that, his magic isn’t exactly available right now. 

So he’s got to work with what he’s got.

“And your side?” Mikey insists.

What on earth did Gerard do to get so beat up?  
“When he punched me I sorta fell. And then he kicked me.”  
“Shit,” Mikey breathes, “are your ribs broken?”  
“No… no at least I don’t think so. Probably just bruised.”  
“You should sit down-”  
“No. I’m fine,” Gerard says pushing off from the counter he was leaning against and shutting the door behind him with a flick of his wrist. 

It’s likely for show, to make Mikey not worry. But it doesn’t work. 

Not when he can see the barely concealed pain written across Gerard's face when crosses the room. He puts shaking hands around Mikey’s shoulders, hazel eyes boring into him. But it’s gentle, Gerard just checking to make sure he’s okay. 

Mikey can feel the soft burning sensation of Gerard’s magic as it washes over him. He lets it, opening his non-existent shields on instinct.

“You shouldn’t be up,” Gerard says at last, eyeing him disapprovingly.  
“I’m only up because you look like you just fucking lost a fight and from the sound of it, you did.”  
Gerard wipes the blood from his face with the back of his sleeve, grinning a moment later.

“Who said I lost? Besides, I told you, I’m fine. Nothing a little sleep and my magic won’t fix by tomorrow,” Gerard assures him, “ plus, you’re the one who needs to be sleeping right now. I can feel how tired you are Mikey.” 

He’s got a point but Mikey’s not happy about it.

“What did you do? Who’d you fight?”

This earns him another smile, one that doesn’t quite meet Gerard’s eyes.

“The next time you buy, illegal, potions off of random dudes, make sure you know what they do okay?”


	22. You Only Live Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
*cursing  
*mentions of laser wounds  
*firefights(past and present)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening!  
God there's only like 10 more updates for this! shit it's going by fast!!!  
So this chapter, as well as the next, is gonna be me experimenting with the universe I'm making my next Long fic in. It's gonna be a Danger Days one, set after Sing and the aftermath of all of That. I'm still figuring things out so these two updates may not end up being in the exact same universe. That being said, at the moment this is set some time After the plot line of the story I'm gonna write. So yeah, no spoilers or anything for it because I'm not that far along. Long story short, this is my playing in a universe I'm wanting to write in.  
But yeah, this update is gonna be kinda sad, again, so sorry in advance! It'll end cute I swear!!!  
Huge thanks to @pauladiazcruz for being my beta and helping me get my shit together!!!  
Okay, enjoy guys!!!

“Hey, Party, can I talk to you a sec?” Jet asks as they walk through the front door.

Kobra, Ghoul, and the Girl are already bypassing the two of them in favor of turning on the diner’s lights and searching for some dinner.

It’s late, their run today taking longer than anticipated, and Party’s honestly pretty dead on their feet right now. They’ve been up since long before dawn and they know they’ll have to bring in the supplies they got before going to bed. 

All the same, the way Jet’s looking at them is making it rather obvious that this is important to him. So Party nods and lets him lead the way back out into the cool air of the desert. Their suspicion only grows when Jet carefully closes the front door behind them so that it doesn't make a sound. 

Jet doesn’t say a word, instead he just jogs over to the car, leaving Party standing confused by the door. They shake their head but walk back over to the car anyway. They rest against the hood while they wait on Jet to say whatever it is that’s on his mind.

“Do ya know what month it is?” he asks randomly.

They think hard for a moment but come up short. It’s always hard to keep track of the dates out here but Party’s fairly certain that it’s close to the end of the year… maybe. 

“Not really,” they admit with a shrug. “Why?”

Jet sighs, his expression growing sad all of a sudden though Party’s not sure why.

“It’s October,” he tells them in a whisper. 

A soft ‘oh’ is all that Party’s able to say. 

They’re not sure why Jet’s telling them this but it’s clearly bothering him, whatever it is. 

“Jet, c’mon, you gotta give me more ‘t go on than that,” Party says after it’s clear Jet’s not going to keep going. “What’s eatin’ ya?”

“Did you ever celebrate Halloween back in the City?”

Party blinks, once again caught off guard by Jet’s questions. But they think hard, trying to piece together memories. 

Vaguely they can sorta remember an image of their brother as a baby, his hand stuffed down a pumpkin as he pulled the guts out. But it’s fuzzy from time and the meds they were on before the two of them got out. 

“I- I think so…” they admit quietly, their voice nearly drowned out by the noise of the insects around them.

“I did too and I dunno about Ghoul, but Girly‘s the only one who hasn’t.”

“So what- you wanna celebrate with her or somethin’?” 

“Yeah. I mean, we don’t… we don’t know if we’ll be here to do it next year so…”

Party feels that all too familiar ache in their chest at Jet’s words, images of their fight inside the City coming back to them in pieces. They don’t remember all of it, just the smell of laser beams burning through clothing and the cold press of the Exterminator’s gun under their chin. 

Unconsciously, they reach up to feel the still healing scar tissue on their neck.

They shouldn’t have survived, none of them should. But they had.

They might not get so lucky next time.

“Let's do it.”  
___________________  
It doesn’t take much to convince Ghoul and Kobra to help them. 

While, obviously, Kobra doesn’t remember celebrating the holiday, he understands that The Girl should have a chance to have something close to a normal childhood. Ghoul on the other hand, is ecstatic the moment Party propositions it to him. He grins wildly and has that look in his eyes where they know he’s already planning something. 

“So,” Jet says after they’ve managed to calm Ghoul down, “Game plan. We find someplace with’a bunch of old clothes or somethin’. Clear it out, make sure it’s safe, and then bring the motor baby. That’away the costume part’ll be covered.”  
Everyone nods so Jet keeps going.

“The only other part of tradition that’s like- remotely possible is candy.”

“God where the hell ‘re we gonna get fuckin’ candy?” Party asks defeatedly.

Sweets are rare, hell anything other than dog food is a fucking five corse meal!

“There’s bound ‘t be a supplier or somthin’. Someone who can smuggle it outta the City?”

“Yeah for an arm ‘n a fuckin’ leg,” Kobra interrupts.

He’s leaning against a doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he listens to their conversation.

“He’s got a point Jet,” Party tries exasperatedly. “Even if we could find someone selling sweet shit, we’d end up broke just tryin’ ‘t get a couple pieces.”

The room falls silent and Party can feel a sinking in their gut at the thought of the Girl not getting the full experience. 

She deserves it. 

Fuck, if they’re honest, the kid deserves the real thing. With trick or treating and shitty costumes and horror movies and-

And everything that the City burned to the ground the second they took power. 

Resolving themself, Party speaks up.

“We’ll cross the candy bridge when we come to it okay,” They say to the room, earning a chuckle from Ghoul. “For now let's focus on the costumes.”

Everyone nods and Party can’t help but smile a little because they’re doing this, they’re actually gonna celebrate something. There’s even a possibility of some actual fucking candy and that alone is enough to make their mood swell.

“What’re we gonna tell Girly?” Kobra pipes up a moment later. 

“Whatd’ya mean?”

“She’s gonna wonder where all of us are goin’. Especially ‘cause we don’t really leave her alone anymore. There’s always one’a us with her.”  
“Shit,” Party sighs as they realize Kobra’s got a point.

Kobra’s right, they never leave The Girl alone. She was with them when she got captured and so her being by herself is not something they try to let happen. At all. Maybe if someone’s with her they’ll be able to protect her this time, keep her safe. It’s a big maybe, one that’s been proven wrong before, but it’s all they have. 

Absently, Party begins to fiddle with the red and black bandana they have tied around their neck. Sand and shit still irritates the healing skin there, so they always wear it when they’re outside. 

They must have forgotten to take it off when they’d all piled into the garage for a quick meeting.

“We could tell her it’s a secret? That’a way she’s not worryin’ over us,” Ghoul chimes in, though one of his hands is already shoved down into an old engine block.  
Party doesn’t have a clue what the hell he’s doing with the thing but they learned a while ago to not question it.

“I don’t wanna lie to her,” they admit, unconsciously glancing towards the diner. 

The Girl is napping right now, or at least she should be. They’d all had a late night last night with that run that seemed to take fuckin’ ages so Party doesn’t blame her for sleeping a little extra. Honestly they kinda envy her. 

They could really go for a nap right about now.

“S’not lyin’. We’ll tell her it’s a surprise, cause it is, and then go on our way,” Jet says hesitantly, adjusting his sunglasses.

He’s not taken them off, even though they’re inside now and the sand probably won’t get under his eye patch. Party pulls their bandana a little higher, unpleasant memories threatening to spill over into their mind. 

“Bit like a surprise party then?” they ask, trying to keep their tone light.

The last thing they need is for the others to get worried about them. Again.

“That’ll work. We won’t be lyin’ and she’ll ‘av somethin’ to look forward to,” Ghoul adds as he pulls his hand free from the engine-thing that’s sitting on the workbench.  
There’s a very greasy, blackened rod-thing in his hand that he carefully sets down on the opposite side of the table. Party very carefully does not flinch when he wipes the oil and Witch knows what else down the front of his shirt. 

_______________________________

They haven't been in a fire fight, not a real one anyway, since that night in the City. It feels the same, blistering laser fire and smoke choking their airway. The sounds of their crew shouting over the chaos. 

Party hadn’t missed this, if anything they’d prayed they’d never be in this situation again. 

Their hand is shaking as they shoot at a line of Dracs advancing towards them but somehow Party manages to take them down. It takes considerable effort to keep their mind focused, to not think about the last time they were fighting like this. To not think of the burning hot pain of the Exterminator’s gun as he pulled the trigger- 

Cursing, Party stumbles and hits the burning sand with a grunt. They just lay there, disoriented and breathing heavily. It’s coming back in flashes now, the fear written all over The Girl’s face, the sound of her scream… that look in Korse’s eyes as he-

“Party!” 

Someone’s shouting for them but it’s not until a rough hand is shaking their shoulder that they’re able to snap out of it.

Kobra’s crouched beside them, shooting one-handed off to the side at the Dracs Party fell trying to take down. Their brother squeezes their shoulder and glances down momentarily at them.

“Are you hit?” 

“No,” they manage, all of a sudden feeling horrible.

There’s nothing wrong with them, Party just can’t keep out of their own head long enough to fight it seems.

“I know,” Kobra admits gently once the closest Dracs are gone.

He extends a hand, helping them up and covering for them as they bend over to pick up their fallen raygun.  
“Clear!” Jet shouts from their left, waving his hand in the air.

Party spots Ghoul kicking the shit out of a fallen Drac and Kobra’s hands shake slightly as he holsters his gun. Maybe it’s not just them…

“Alright, this better be fuckin’ full of clothes ‘n shit,” Kobra grumbles as the two of them make their way over to the warehouse door.

Ghoul joins them a moment later, Jet not far behind him, and they advance into the building together, one hand on their blasters at all times. 

It’s dark, the sunlight from outside only illuminating the first few rows of tiny storage rooms, each stacked high with old boxes and containers. Beyond that though, is nothing but blackness, deep enough for Party to be unable to see the far wall. It smells too, a mix of dust and filth that stings Party’s nose.

They break off from the others, each of them turning down a random aisle. Party runs their hand along the cool metal of the grates pulled down over the opening of the storage rooms. It’s dirty as hell and.the residue smearing on their fingers is enough to make Party retract their hand. 

They wipe their hands on their pants, trying to not think of whatever the hell they just touched, and stop in front of the next storage unit. 

It’s filled to the brim with boxes and they have to squint to read the letters scrawled across the cardboard. 

Kitchen, books, bedroom… ah ha! Clothes!

“Got clothes in this one!” they shout as loud as they dare, hoping the others are close enough to hear them.

“This one too!” 

“Yeah, looks like most’a ‘em have clothes!” shouts Jet.

“Hold on fuckers! Think I found the power!”

Rolling their eyes, because of course Ghoul would be the one to find something electronic to fuck with, they wait for the familiar hum of electricity. It comes a moment later before there’s a loud click that seems to echo through the building.  
Slowly the lights come on, small clumps of the rows lighting randomly until they’re all on.

It’s just as dirty as Party thought, a thick layer of dust settling over everything and the inescapable sand piling in corners. The row they’re in stretches on for maybe twenty or so more storage units and Party can now see the prints their boots are making on the floor.

Gross.

Party turns, heading back down the aisle towards the large, open door that they came in through. 

Thankfully most of the shaking has faded away now that the fight is over but they’re not overly fond of being far away from their crew for so long. They find the others standing just outside the doors, mid conversation.

“-she’s gonna love it. There’s a buncha shit in here so we might be able to find useful stuff too,” Jet says, turning to smile at Party as they come over.

Ghoul’s standing beside him, though he quickly comes over to stand by Party once they get there. Their hands slip together and Party finds themself relaxing the last little bit. 

It’s worth it, they think. 

Fighting again and going to all this trouble, it’s worth it if it means Girly can have something close to a real childhood. She’s already seen too many firefights, too many bloody and burned wounds on the people meant to protect her. Hell, she saw them all go down that night in the City. 

Party wishes with everything in them that she hadn’t been there to see that. But no amount of wishing can change the past and so they do the next best thing. 

Try to make right now better. The first step is this Halloween thing, getting this random shit that they don’t really need to make sure she has something good to remember. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all liked it! Gonna post part two as tomorrow's fic and I promise it'll be less depressing. I always end up writing hurt/comfort and at this point it's just a given haha  
For anyone interested, the currently unnamed long fic in this universe will be out the second week of November. I'm aiming for the 7th or the 8th but that may change!!  
If you're enjoying this little Halloween/fall themed thing, please feel free to leave a comment or drop a kudos! I love hearing what you guys think!!


	23. The Kids From Yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
*cursing  
*PTSD, but it's not really detailed  
*mentions of blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evening everyone! Here's part two!!  
Thank you to @pauladiazcruz for being my awesome editor/beta reader!!!!  
Enjoy!  
*Chapter title is from The Kids From Yesterday by My Chem!*

Party cuts the engine and slides out of the car in one fluid motion, their boots making a soft thud as they hit the sand. 

They pull a deep, calming breath, letting the nighttime air fill their lungs and chase away any unwanted anxiety.

Some anxiety is good, a necessity at times, but currently their hands are shaking and their breathing has become too fast.

So Party breathes deep again, playing with the soft fabric of the bandana around their neck and attempting to calm down.  
Nothing is even wrong, not really anyway.

But this is the first time they’ve been alone since…

It’s not just the motor baby who always has at least someone there. It’s an unspoken rule that until everything dies down again, they go in pairs at the very least. 

But it’s not like Party’s doing anything bad per se.

They lean a little against the car door, letting their head tilt back to watch the sky. Dark sky against bright and spinning constellations fill their vision. It’s pretty, prettier than they have words to describe. 

It makes Party feel like a newbie, fresh out of the City and seeing, actually seeing, the sky for the first time.

Why had they ever stopped looking up?

They think about their conversation with Jet earlier, how it’d become pretty apparent that there was no way they were going to be able to get any sort of candy. They’d tried, believe them they tried. But after everything that has happened, the City’s basically on lock down. Sneaking food out is more difficult than ever. People in the desert are starving and even the small amounts of food that The Lobby can spare aren’t enough.

So candy? Completely out of the question.

It’d been a tough realization but Jet had tried to assure them that the costumes were enough. Girly would still have a good time. 

And Party agrees. Just relaxing for a few hours dressed in ridiculous costumes is going to be fun. Maybe they’ll even break out their makeup palette that’s hidden under a loose piece of cabinet in the kitchen. Party’s been meaning to dust it off anyway.

All the same though, they're not ready to give up on the candy just yet.

Maybe it’s because they’ve had to take the short end more times than they can fucking count recently, or perhaps it’s just a childish want of tooth rotting sweets. They can remember that at least, remember when they weren’t allowed candy because of the apparent dental stress that it causes. Party can just barely recall being in some grocery store, being told no for that same reason, and grabbing the nearest candy bar and shoving the whole thing in their mouth.

Was that when the meds started? 

They’re not sure. 

But they’ll be damned if Girly gets told no to candy. It’s a fucking crucial piece to being a kid. Shoving your face with as much as you can find and getting sick off of it. 

And maybe they won’t be able to get that much but some is better than nothing. 

Taking one last breath, Party pushes themself off the car and readjusts their bandana. They didn’t use to be so self conscious, especially about blaster scars, but this time it’s different. The bandana never comes off, the only exception is when they’re cleaning the slightly raw skin underneath. 

They force themself to focus on the building that stands just a few feet away. It’s old, worn, but clearly sturdy. There’s two old gas pumps out front where Party parked their car and the smell of gasoline hits their nose as they stride past. It burns enough to make them force down a cough, but it means that someone was here recently. 

One hand goes to their holster and they scan the dark desert lying on either side of the building for any movement.  
Nothing. 

Still, they should get this over with as soon as possible.

Being out alone is never a good idea, even when you’re Party Poison. Sometimes especially so.

Soft light spills from the grimy windows of the storefront, falling down on the packed sand by the door. A sun-faded welcome sign hangs on the door’s window and it swings a bit as Party pushes the door open.

A door chime goes off and the person at the counter looks up as they walk in. 

Channeling whatever confidence they can, Party lifts their chin- after making sure the bandana won’t fall- and strides across the room towards the shop owner. 

It’s comfortable inside, the building apparently insulated enough to keep the heat in when the temperature drops at night. The man behind the counter is dressed simply in a -mostly- clean looking t-shirt and his hair is long but neat. 

He has one hand paused on what looks to be an inventory sheet and the other is reaching below the counter. Most likely towards his gun.

“Can I help you?” the man asks cautiously and Party has to hold back from rolling their eyes.

“I just wanna trade.”  
The man’s eyes squint, carefully going over every inch of them in search of… something. He glances at the door a moment later before quickly looking back at Party.

“I’m alone.”

His eyes narrow further and Party begins to think that he’s not going to let them trade. They don’t blame him really. Their crew has a reputation now, a different one than before, and people are cautious of them now.

When the man doesn’t move for what must be only a minute, yet feels like 10, Party sighs and takes their hand off of their gun. They raise their hands, palm side facing the man.

“I just wanna trade. No trouble, swear on ‘m colors,” they try, using their best diplomatic tone.

It’s not as strong as before, their voice. Something about lasers being really fucking hot and the electromagnetic pulses or some shit.... 

Point is, their voice is still a little raspy, weaker than the booming authority it used to hold. If they tried anything like that now, they’d probably end up in a coughing fit.

Slowly though the shop owner brings his hand up to rest beside his other on the counter. The gun comes up too, though he does set it down next to the paper.

“What’d ya want to trade?” he asks carefully.

“ ‘for I show what I got, I wanna know if you have sweet stuff. Candy.”

The man blinks, something unreadable passing over his features.

“Candy?” he questions disbelievingly.

“Yeah. Doesn’t matter what kind, just candy in general.”

“And why would you want something like that? People are goin’ hungry out here and you’re trying to buy sweets?”  
The man has an accent, one that Party just can’t seem to place. It’s not a City one but it feels… almost familiar. They’re not sure. But they can tell pretty easily that this guy doesn’t believe them.

“Look, I just wanna know if you have it. I drove all 'th way out here and I’m prepared t’ pay.”

“Answer my question,” the man presses calmly. 

Party sighs, mulling over in their head if it’s worth it. 

“Ya know the motor baby in our crew?” The man nods slowly, “well, you’ve pro’bly heard the stories by now of what happened.”

They're not sure if they'll be able to say anything else if the guy's not catching on. Just thinking about it is enough for them to be wiping the clamminess of their hands on their jeans.  
“It’s for the kid?”  
“Yes,” Party says, exasperated. “We wanna do somethin’ special in case we ain’t around ‘t do it for her later!”  
With their frustration, their voice had begun to raise. The familiar burn in their throat comes back, their words cracking badly at the end of their little outburst.

Well, they’d like to blame the cracking solely on their injury but, just saying it aloud makes it real. Way too real.

They have no idea if they’ll be around next year to do this, they have no idea if they’ll fucking survive the week.

That’s the whole goddamn point!

Slowly they look back to the shop owner, ready for him to kick them out over shouting. This is true neutral ground and Party knows they’re not supposed to throw their weight around, so to speak. 

But the shop owner’s face is different now, softer.

“I have some,” he says quietly. “Bit old, probably a little stale at this point.”  
“How much?”  
Party tries to keep the excitement out of their tone. The owner knows how much they want, need, the candy so he could very easily hike the prices even higher.

“Got enough for five people. So, for the whole thing?” Party nods, “250.”

They blow a sharp breath, shocked at how high the number is. 

Party had raided their personal stash of money for this, unable to bring themself to ask Jet to spare some of their money for food and shit for something so useless. They have a little over a hundred, nowhere near enough.  
Their stomach drops as they pull the small wad of carbons from their pocket. 

“ ‘s all I got,” they say without thinking.

“How much is it?”

Party looks back up quickly. 

He wouldn’t give them a discount? That’s not a thing, people don’t get that. Especially them.

“124 I think.”  
“Got anything you can trade?”

If they didn’t know better, they’d think that the man was trying to help them. He nods slowly as Party, in a sort of daze, checks their pockets for anything they can sell.

But they come up short. All they have is an extra charge pack, too essential for them to trade, and their car keys.

“Car’s not for trade is it?” the man asks offhandedly.

“No.”

They’d rather die than get rid of their car. It’s what keeps their crew alive. Without it they wouldn't be able to outrun the Dracs. They wouldn't last a week without it. Candy, as much as they want it, isn’t worth that.

“You gotta have something kid.”  
Bristling slightly at being called a kid, Party tries to think of what they have in the car that could possibly be of value and could be spared.

There’s food cans scattered along the floor boards from them having to eat on the run. Party’s also fairly sure there’s a brand new pack of cigarettes waiting in the glove box. But the guys would murder them if they sold those. 

Thinking harder, Party recalls that there’s a pile of clothes in the back seat. Most of them are charred, covered in burned holes and tears. It was what they were wearing in the fight. Party’s jacket is at the bottom of that pile. 

They couldn’t bring themself to put it back on, to smell the laser smoke and coppery blood that they just can’t seem to wash out. 

“I- I might have something,” they say in a small voice, turning and rushing to get it the moment the man nods.

It’s right where they thought it was, laying crumpled underneath the shirts. No one else left their jacket here. Not even Ghoul, and his has a huge blaster hole right over his shoulder and on his side. But he’d shrugged the jacket on the moment he’d been able, completely unphased by that horrible smell Party just can’t get out of theirs.

They hold the jacket at arms length, inspecting the now faded blues and reds. It’s barely burned, just a bit near the collar from the blast that took them down. There’s only a little bit of blood, a few small drops still staining down the front. 

Party’s stomach turns and they hastily roll the jacket into a ball and shove it under their arm. 

They had told themself that one day they’d be able to wear it again, that the memories wouldn’t be so strong in time. But if they’re honest, that’s never going to happen. 

When they get back inside, Party drops the bundled up jacket onto the counter. They take a deep breath, suppressing the urge to scrub their arms and hands with bleach. The smell is probably on them now, laser smoke sinking into the jacket they’re wearing. 

It’s an older one, their first. It doesn't have their colors, rather it’s just an off grey with a few brightly colored patches sewn on, but it’s warm and it works. 

“You want to sell this?”

Party nods sharply, wishing suddenly that this was over already. 

“Why?”

“No,” they say quietly, almost begging. “Just- is it enough for the stupid candy or not?”

“Yeah kid, it’s enough.”

Without another word the man stands and disappears into a back room that Party hadn’t noticed before. They fidget nervously with the hem of their bandana, clearing their throat once or twice to get rid of that annoying scratchy feeling. 

“Ah, here we are,” the store owner says, reappearing and popping a small, cardboard box down onto the counter beside the jacket.

Party takes a step closer, eyes narrowed as they take in the tiny thing they just sold their fucking jacket for.

“I was able to find a couple varieties,” the man explains as Party opens the box carefully.

There’s a good bit inside, about 20 pieces, and-

“Holy fuck is that chocolate?!”

The man chuckles but he nods once. Party’s jaw goes slack. 

They’d never expected chocolate, hard candy and mints, yeah sure, but fucking chocolate?!

“There’s enough for five if you share.”

“I-I fuck, thank you. Seriously you didn’t-”  
The man raises his hand to silence them but he’s got a ghosting of a smile on his own face.

“Take care of ‘em okay?”

Party nods eagerly, their eyes going back down to the fucking chocolate sitting in front of them.

They lift the box carefully, holding it against their chest as they walk out. A sharp breeze blows sand in their face and Party has to stop as they cough. 

Reaching up to secure the bandana, they realize that it’s resting around their collarbones and that their neck and chin are in the open air…

They have to fight to breathe properly against the panic and the sand coating their mouth. Party all but falls into the Trans-AM as quickly as they can, letting the door slam shut as they lean their head on the steering wheel.

No one’s supposed to see it, there’s a fucking reason they wear that bandana. 

Party doesn’t want the pity, the sad looks, or even the fucking ‘how the hell did you survive that?!’. They don’t want it, don’t need it.  
They’re fine.

But they can’t help but to wonder if that was what made the store owner throw in the extra candy. If seeing their wound, even though it’s almost completely healed, was what did it.

Party’s not sure but they do know that they need to get back before the night watch shift changes. If the guys found out they went out alone, they’d probably never get to leave the diner again. 

The engine hums pleasantly when they turn the key and the little cardboard box sits buckled up in the passenger seat as they drive home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I swear it's not gonna be sad forever!!  
And Halloween shenanigans will happen very soon. Tomorrow actually. I meant for this to be only two parts but, since I'm playing in a new universe I'm working on, a bit of the background information pulled me in. But yeah, I promise tomorrow's update will be cute and happy and I will do my very best to Not write the angst!!!


	24. Hope For Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
Same as last chapter!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, I've made it through 23 freaking days!!  
God I love this but I am so Tired you have no idea. But it's fine.  
Anyway, I just wanna say, 'cause I forgot the past couple of days, that the killjoys are NOT my chem in this. When I actually start working more on my long fic in this universe I'm gonna come up with real names but I just wanted to mention that here.  
A huge thank you to @pauladiazcruz for being such an awesome beta!!!  
And I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Chapter title is from The Only Hope For Me Is You by My chem*

“Hey Jet?” Party says as they walk into the main part of the diner.

Jet looks up from his can of food and offers them a nod as they slide in across from him in the booth.

For a moment, neither of them speak and the only sound is the soft scraping of Jet’s fork against the can. 

He looks good today, Party notices. 

They’ve all been running a little thin recently so seeing Jet relaxing here is a nice change. His hair is wet and the moisture makes it appear darker than the light brown color it normally is. Also, if Party squints, they're fairly certain that he might have even brushed his hair. Which is an achievement in itself because, as beautiful as his hair is, it’s extremely thick. 

“Showers this morning?” Party asks, leaning back a little in the seat to peer out the nearby window.

Rolling sand and bright desert sun is all that they see. The heat has started already, thick and suffocating and Party vaguely remembers hearing about a heatwave that’s on it’s way.  
They hope it won’t be too bad; they still have to take the motor baby to the warehouse to get costumes. And driving around packed in a car with five other people isn’t exactly fun when it’s even hotter than normal. 

“Yeah, s’posed to be a fuckin’ scorcher today. I already got Girly washed ‘n I think Kobra’s in there now,” Jet replies, scrapping the last of his meal from the can before tossing it haphazardly behind him. 

The shower thing makes sense though. Wet hair, especially hair like Jet’s that holds water for ages, is one of the best ways to fight heat waves. 

It’s times like these where Party’s thankful they found this place. They have running water, something that’s very rare in the Zones, and though it’s not drinkable unless they treat it, they can use it for cooking or showers.

“But,” Jet says, wiping a stray hair from his face. “What’d ya wanna ask me?”

“Huh? Oh! I was just wonderin’ what day it was.”  
Jet thinks a moment but he replies confidently, a soft smile on his face. 

“T’day’s the 30th. That’s why we’re goin’ to the warehouse after everyone showers. Gotta make sure the costumes ‘r gonna work since we ain’t got the candy ya know?”

Party nods, turning to look out the window so that Jet won’t be able to see through their expression and tell that they’re hiding something. He’s good like that.

It takes another three hours before everyone is piling into the car. 

Party had taken a bit longer than they’d meant to in the shower, just letting the luke warm water wash over them. It took a lot of scrubbing, and I mean a lot, to wash off the months of dirt and sand that had practically become a second skin. They hadn’t had the time to shower much recently but they still feel bad for wasting more water than the others.  
Even so, the relief already provided by their soaking wet hair is worth it. It won’t last long, not with the heat and how they’ve shaved the back of it, but for now Party’s comfortable.  
“Where ‘r we goin’?” The Girl asks as they all buckle up.

She’s got her robot toy clenched tightly in her arms but her expression only holds curiosity. 

“It’s a surprise Girly. If I tell ya it won’t be as fun,” Jet says from the passenger seat, twisting around to face her.

Party laughs when she sticks her tounge out at Jet, earning them a glare from him. But it’s worth whatever impressionable young child lecture that they’re sure to get later. 

Once everyone's settled, Party cranks the radio and drives off.

________________________________

“Stay in the car okay?” 

The Girl nods, holding a little tighter to her toy as the four of them exit the car. With each slam of a car door, Party tries to not think of what could go wrong.

They’re just checking to make sure this place is still clear and that it hasn’t been picked clean by other ‘joys. Besides, they doubt any Dracs would be back this quickly. It’s been less than a week.

This time when they pull their gun, their hand doesn’t shake. Party pulls a deep breath, thankful that there’s no tightness to their chest just yet, and motions for the others to follow their lead.

They step away from the car, eyes trained on the dark entryway in front of them. Without looking they know that the guys are watching the other directions, searching for any signs of another crew nearby.

Pausing in front of the doorway, Party can see the rows of storage units that are just inside. They look untouched but that doesn’t mean they are.

“Ghoul. Lights.”

Without a word Ghoul slinks inside, Party and Kobra following while Jet stays by the door. A few seconds later and the lights are on, each aisle lighting up with a dull click just like before. 

From there they clear each aisle, finding nothing but sand and locked gated rooms.

“Clear!” 

“This one’s clear!” Party shouts back, though they don’t holster their gun just yet.

Ghoul rounds the corner of the aisle that Party’s down, beaming as he jogs over.

“You think they got any old for real costumes?”

“Huh?” Party asks, confused.

“Like actual costumes that they stored away!” 

“Oh. Yeah I dunno, maybe?”

Ghoul nods enthusiastically, grabbing Party’s hand and dragging them closer to the nearest storage unit. He lets go of their hand and starts pressing random buttons on the small keypad attached to the gate. A little red light flashes each time he gets the wrong passcode and Party has to hide their grin as he fails.  
On the eighth time however, they put their hand over the buttons to stop him from trying again.

“Wait on Kobes. He’s got the hacker,” they tell him in what hopefully comes across as an annoyed tone.

Ghoul groans but he’s grabbing Party’s hand again instead of going back to the keypad, so they count it as a win. 

They walk back down the aisle, Ghoul stopping often to peer inside the small rooms. As they reach the front of the warehouse again, they see Jet leading a very confused motor baby towards them. Kobra’s walking beside them, the vend-a-hack already in his hand. 

Party can hear The Girl talking from here, asking a billion questions as they get closer.

“What is this?”  
“A warehouse,” Jet supplies, nodding to Party and Ghoul when he notices them in the entryway.

“Why?”

“Cause it’s your surprise.”  
That earns Jet a quizzical stare that rivals the ones Party gets from Kobra when they’re being more confusing than normal. 

“Why…?”

They reach the entryway before Jet can answer and Party offers him a sympathetic smile. He nods and runs a hand through his hair.

“C’mon Girly,” Party says crouching down to her level. “Can I show you the real surprise?”

“So it’s not the old, dusty building?”  
Party laughs and Ghoul snorts beside them. 

“Nope.”

“Good. Cause I hate to break it to ya but there’s a jillion old, dusty buildings out here.”

“Alright smarty pants, come on.”

The Girl grabs Party’s hand as they stand back up. They lead her to the nearest aisle and her eyes light up the moment she sees the first storage room. 

“What’s that?” she demands, pointing her finger through one of the holes in the gate.  
Following her line of view, Party can just barely make out what looks to be an old record player stuffed into the far corner. It’s got a rolled up rug on top of it and they’re honestly not sure how she spotted it.

“ ‘s an old music thing. People used to play records on it a long time ago.”

“I kinda wanna see if I can salvage it,” Jet says quietly, his eyes almost as glued to it as The Girl’s.

“Why not?” Kobra shrugs, lifting the device in his hands and already beginning to type in… whatever it is that he types.  
Party’s never been sure. Maybe it’s code? Or like a formula or something? 

Either way, a moment later he takes the cord connected to it and plugs it into the side of the keypad. Kobra types a couple more times and then the little light blinks green and the gate begins to lift. 

“Handy,” Ghoul remarks as Kobra pulls the cord from the keypad and steps back.

After the five of them manage to get the record player into the car, they go back inside to actually get what they came here for.

“So we’re not just gettin’ random stuff?” The Girl asks, looking up at Party confused.

“Yeah. You see, there used ‘t be this old holiday this time ‘a year called Halloween. People would dress up in costumes and watch scary movies ‘n stuff.”  
“Why?”  
“ ‘cause it’s fun. When me 'n Kobes were younger than you we did.

“We did?” Kobra asks, striding over to where the two of them are standing.  
“Yep. Loads of kids did. It’s tradition.”  
“So, that’s why we’re here,” Jet interjects, seeing how they were straying from the point. “We’re all gonna pick out the weirdest clothes we can find and dress up.”  
“What kinda clothes?”

“Whatever kind ya want motor baby.”

So from there, they just follow Girly around as she pops in and out of over half a dozen storage units. Since Kobra’s the only one who can get the gates open when they find something they want, they have to stick together.

But it’s fun, watching The Girl get excited as she finds a feather boa. Party has to show her how to wear it but after that she refuses to take it off. It’s bright pink and is shedding everywhere, leaving little feathers everywhere Girly goes.

“Hey, shortstack,” Ghoul calls, popping his head out of a door frame a few doors down the aisle. “Look at what I found!”

He holds out a black and red piece of fabric. As Party is dragged over by The Girl’s hand, they’re able to see what looks like a hood on the material in Ghoul’s hand.

“What is it?” Party asks as Ghoul hands it over to the kid.

“A cape! It even matches the boa.”

Refraining from telling Ghoul that it does not in fact match the hot pink boa at all, Party instead helps The Girl tie it around her shoulders. It’s too long for her, the hem of it dragging along the floor as she parades around while they clap.

“Can I have it?” The Girl asks, turning to look up at Party again.

They nod, laughing as she beams and runs back to Jet and Kobra in the other storage unit.

“I found a bunch’a clothes in this one,” Ghoul says as he goes back in the small room and starts rummaging through what looks to be an old wardrobe.

He thrusts a denim jacket that’s got a couple questionable stains adorning the front of it into Party’s hands.  
“Try it on.”  
“Uh, I don’t think so,” they say, letting it drop to the floor.

Denim against their jeans is not a look they’re going for, thank you very much. They have some reputation left. 

“Fine, drama queen. How’s about this?”

Ghoul spins around, holding the jumper up for Party to see.

It’s big -way bigger than Ghoul- and it’s plain black save for the off white skeleton bones. 

“Why?”

“ ‘cause you’d look fuckin’ adorable in it?” 

Party glares at him but takes the stupid pajamas anyway. The fabric is soft and the skeleton down the front is kinda cool. Kinda.

“Please?” Ghoul begs, making his stupid, pretty green eyes all big because he knows Party can’t say no to him when he does this.

They roll their eyes as dramatically as they can and fold the jumper over their arm.

“Fine. Get one for yerself an’ we can match.”

The look in Ghoul’s eyes has Party worried for a moment that he did find two of them. But thankfully the only thing he pulls out next is a pair of leather pants.

“Whata’ bout these?” he says, holding them up for Party to see better.  
“Would they even fit your tiny ass?”

“Lemme see…” 

And just like that Ghoul’s stripping his jeans off and hopping around on one foot to try and pull up the tight pants. Somehow they make it up to his waist and he manages to button them rather easily. The legs are a little long, completely covering his feet, but other than that they fit.

“How’d I look?” Ghoul asks, turning a bit for Party to admire him.

The pants do make his ass look great but Party’s not about to tell him that. 

“ s’ fine. Little long though.”

“Eh. I can just roll ‘em up or somethin’. Maybe I can steal Jet’s shirt and go as him!”  
“Good luck trying to get one’a his shirts. Plus it’d be a fuckin’ dress on you anyways.”

It’s Ghoul’s turn to roll his eyes as he peels the pants off of him and hops into his normal ones. 

“Come on, let's see what the others found.”

_________________________________________

They find Jet and Kobra two aisles over, already wearing their costumes.

Kobra’s wearing a sombrero and has his jacket replaced by an ancient looking hoodie. It looks thick, way too many layers for the middle of the day, that’s for sure, and for some reason it had a person’s face crudely drawn on it with those puffy paint markers. 

Jet on the other hand has come across, and is already wearing for some reason, a large, extravagant wedding gown of all things. Somehow it fits him. 

Besides, the sparkling sequins and ruffles are very pretty. He’s even got one of those plastic flower crowns on too, his soft curls tangling around it already.

“You finally put a fuckin’ ring on it Kobra?” Ghoul calls, making their brother’s face turn absolutely beet red. 

Jet however just rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as The Girl’s head pops up from behind a storage bin.

She’s got a pair of bedazzled sunglasses on and one of the boa feathers is stuck in her curly hair. Party’s not sure if that’s intentional or not so they don’t comment on it.

“Uh, what’d you guys find?” Kobra stutters, his face still a very nice shade of tomato red.

Ghoul holds up the pants he found.

“I found these fuckers, gonna dress up as Jet.”

“Language,” Jet chides but he’s laughing as Ghoul holds the pants in front of him to measure their length. “And why would ya go as me?”

“Why not?”

Jet shrugs, carefully rearranging the poofy skirt of the dress a little.

“I’m apparently goin’ as a sleepy skeleton? I dunno, Ghoul picked it out for me,” Party tells them, holding up their own costume for the others to look at.

“Nice. Kinda cute.”

“Fuck off Kobra, least I don’t look like a tomato.”

“Language,” Jet says again, a little more forcefully as he glances over to where The Girl is.

But she’s not paying attention to them. 

She’s got one of the storage bins open and is leaning so far into it that she’s basically inside of it. 

“Besides, what’re you supposed to be Kobra?”

“Dunno. Thought it looked cool,” he says with a shug as he puts his sunglasses back on. 

“You’re not gonna wear that home are you?”

“Maybe.” 

“Okay, okay,” Jet intervenes with a laugh. “We can’t go home wearin’ our costumes, ‘s too hot. We’d bake.”

“Can I wear mine?” 

“Negative Girly. You too.”

She sighs but pulls the boa and cape off anyway, reluctantly handing them to Jet. The bedazzled sunglasses stay and no one has any good reason for why she can’t wear them.

__________________________________________

They make it back right at dusk.

With the worst of the heat over, they all disappear into their rooms to change. Party helps Ghoul get the leather pants on, letting him sit on the bed while they roll the bottoms of them up. 

“You’re gonna wear the ‘jamies right?” Ghoul asks quietly, his voice soft for some reason.

“Don’t see why not.”

Their voice is even more quiet than his, though that’s probably because of all the strain they’ve put on it today. It’s still annoying by any means.

“Good. I really do think yer gonna look fuckin’ adorable in it, Party.”  
If he notices their blush, he doesn’t mention it. 

Once they’re done rolling his pants legs, Ghoul hops up from the bed and tugs on the shirt he somehow managed to bug off of Jet.

He’d even tried to curl his hair- don’t ask- but it didn’t work so it’s as straight as ever. 

Party rounds the bed, staring down at the jumper carefully laid out.

They wonder if The Girl will remember this, will remember the fun they’re gonna have tonight.

She’s so young…

If something happens to them tomorrow, would she even remember their faces? 

“Hey,” Ghoul’s gentle voice cuts through their train of thought and they lean into his touch as he hugs them from behind. “You alright?”  
They take a deep breath, carefully leaning their head back onto his shoulder. His arms wrap snugly around Party’s middle, keeping their mind from wandering too far.

For a moment they worry about leaning on him too much.

The wounds on his shoulder and side are healed now- well as much as their own is- but he’s still sore, even if he won’t admit it. But his grip is strong and he doesn’t feel tense.

“You’re not hurtin’ me,” he says, somehow knowing exactly what they were thinking.  
“But-”

“We’re okay Party. All of us. We’re healin’ and pretty soon you won’t be able ‘t tell we were hurt in th’ first place.”

They scoff a little at that, knowing full well that the four of them will carry these scars to their graves.

“Look,” Ghoul tries, a little more gentle this time. “If we keep lookin’ back on what happened ‘n worryin’ about it, we won’t get as much out of right now.”

“That’s very Jet of you.”

Ghoul chuckles against them, leaning to kiss their forehead before continuing.

“I’m serious though. We can’t let what happened ruin stuff like this.”

“I hate it when you’re smart.”

“Mhm, sure ya do. Now,” he lets go and turns them around. “Put on the stupid fuckin’ pajamas ‘n meet us in the diner.”

He kisses them one more time before he goes. 

Party watches the door to their shared room shut, leaving them alone with their thoughts and the pajamas. 

Oh! 

And the candy.

They can’t belive that they actually fuckin’ forgot about the candy!

As quickly as they can, Party strips out of their jeans and jacket, though they leave their old Mousekat shirt on.

Party was right, the pajamas are extremely soft. They’re also pretty warm too and as they retrieve the small box of candy from its hiding spot, Party doesn’t even bother slipping their boots back on.

Everyone is already in the main part of the diner, laughing and talking about each other’s costumes like they haven't already seen them. 

Kobra’s currently helping the kid wear the boa like a scarf rather than having it just hang off her shoulders and drag on the floor. She’s making it difficult though by laughing every time a feather tickles her neck or gets caught on the cape.

Meanwhile Jet is pulling his hair out of the way to show Ghoul the pretty lace back that his dress has. And Party has to admit, it is very fancy. Ghoul of course looks the same as he did 10 minutes ago, ridiculously tight pants and borrowed t-shirt only making him sorta look like Jet.  
Everyone turns as Party walks over, four sets of eyes instantly on them.

Suddenly self-conscious about the too-large pajamas, they feel their face heat up. 

“Ooo! I wanna feel!” The Girl shouts, already pulling free of Kobra and running over to Party.

She grabs two fist fulls of the fabric around their middle, rubbing her hands over the material. 

“It’s so soft!” she tells them with a grin.

Feeling some of the tension wash away, they chance a look to the others.

Jet gives them a friendly nod and a thumbs up while all they get from their brother is the tiniest of smiles. Though they realize he does actually like it, considering he’s not teasing them for it.

Ghoul however, is staring. He’s got this dumb love-stuck look on his face and it’s enough to make Party blush again.

It’s just pajamas, nothing close to the skin-tight jeans they normally wear.

When The Girl gets bored, which doesn’t take long, she finally notices the box they’ve got cradled in their hand.

“What’s that?” she demands, pointing at their surprise.

Party feels something warm and soft bubble in their chest as they look down at her wide, curious eyes.

“Why don’t ya open it ‘n find out,” they say, handing her the box and watching her face light up even more.

She tears it a little as she opens it but her face scrunches in confusion once the lid is off.

“What is it?”

“Hold some up for the guys to see, maybe they know,” Party tells her as innocently as they can.

Girly just shrugs and grabs a small handful to hold up for the others to see.  
Jet comes over first, hands on his hips as he leans over to see. His mouth falls open the moment he realizes what she’s holding. He looks up quickly at Party as Kobra and Ghoul come over as well.

“Holy shit shortstack,” Ghoul says under his breath.

“Party how in the hell-”  
“Party,” Jet interrupts, his tone suspicious. “What did you do?”

They grin, looking back down at The Girl’s confused face and the box of candy still in her hand.

“I found sweets.”

“Yeah but-”

“Who fuckin’ cares Jet?” Ghoul interrupts excitedly, already reaching into the box to grab some for himself. “It’s candy!”

“Okay yeah, but-”

“Better not to question it,” Kobra speaks up, grabbing his own small handful of candy. 

“Candy?”

Party looks back to The Girl, she’s eyeing the candy in her hands suspiciously and it hits them that she’s never actually had sweets before. Pushing aside the ache that that realization makes in their chest, they crouch down next to her.

“It’s sweet, sorta like the soda we got that one time. ‘Member?”

She nods slowly.  
“Yeah, see you take off the wrapper like this,” Party takes a piece of chocolate and pulls off the wrapper for her. “And then you bite into it.”

They hand her the chocolate, a soft smile itching its way onto their face.

She bites into it hesitantly, her small face confused more than anything. But then she must realize how good it is because Party watches her light up. She absolutely beams up at them, smiling wide and displaying the bits of chocolate stuck to her teeth.

“It’s sweet!”

“Yeah!” they say with a chuckle, already taking the wrapper off another piece for her. 

She eats this one just as fast and manages to open the next one on her own. Standing up, Party grabs a couple of pieces from the box for themself. There’s hard candy in here too, little red things that taste like cinnamon. Those are Party’s favorite, second only to real chocolate.

They eat their share carefully, watching the others try and savor their own handfuls. Who knows when they’ll get this much candy again.

The candy doesn’t last long and Party’s sad to see it gone, but everyone is in good spirits as they all crowd into a booth together.  
Kobra and Ghoul are laughing and trying to get Jet into the booth with that poofy dress. They manage to get him in but at the cost of Kobra’s sombrero It gets squished somewhere between their attempt to hike the dress up and when they tried to scoot the table even though it’s bolted into the floor.

Once everyone's in though, the laughs die down and a heavy, yet comfortable sense of peace washes over them. Jet has his head on Kobra’s shoulder, their hands intertwined on top of the table. 

The Girl is half asleep against Party’s side, curled up with her fists gripping their pajamas. It reminds them of when she was small, just a baby. How she would hold onto them so tightly when they held her.

She’s getting big fast, growing out of clothes faster than they can find them, but she’s also still so young. They don’t know exactly when she was born but she can’t be any older than five or six.

Ghoul is beside them, pressed close to try and absorb some of their heat as he plays with the last piece of candy. It’s probably melting already from the warmth of his hands but he looks too lost in thought to notice.

“Party,” Jet asks quietly, probably so that he doesn’t wake the kid. 

“Hmm?”

“How’d you get the candy?” Ghoul asks for him, looking up at Party with a mix of concern and curiosity.

“I traded somethin’.”

“Seriously Party,” Jet presses in his best parent tone.

“My jacket.”

“What? Party no-”

“Ghoul it’s just a piece of fabric. Nothin’ special,” they defend, though they have to clear their throat when their voice cracks towards the end.

Party’s probably not gonna have a voice tomorrow but they can’t dwell on that, not with the concerned faces of their best friends staring back at them.

“But it’s your jacket Party,” Kobra insists.

“This was more important. ‘Sides, I don’t- I dont think I could ever wear it again. Kobes you know that.”

Their brother sighs and Ghoul leans against them a little more than before. But it’s Jet that speaks up.

“If it’s just a jacket, it’s just a jacket. But,” he looks at them a long moment. “Getting rid of it doesn’t mean none of this ever happened.”

Party’s hand goes up to their neck automatically. They’d left their bandana on the bed, not seeing any reason for them to wear it here. Everyone in the room has already seen it.

“ I know.”

That seems to satisfy Jet and he relaxes back against the seat. The Girl starts snoring soon after, still curled tightly against Party as she sleeps.

“I’ll put her down,” they say, letting Ghoul hop out so they can stand and gather her in their arms.

She doesn’t stir as they take her into what used to be the diner’s pantry but now acts as her bedroom. The Girl melts into the nest of blankets that make up her bed, only sighing softly as Party lets go.

They close the door gently behind them, walking back to the others with a smile on their face.

“Hey, we’re gonna tell ghost stories. You wanna go first?” Ghoul calls, holding up a flashlight under his chin.

Stifling a laugh at how ridiculous he looks with the odd shadows over his face, Party slides into the booth. Cracking their knuckles, they look to each of their friends in turn.

“Ghost stories? I think I know one…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's run out of prompts and has no clue what I'm writing tomorrow?  
That'd be me.  
But yeah tomorrow's probably gonna be interesting.... I have ideas though.  
That being said, you can request scenes, pairings, or whole prompts that you wanna see! Any new ideas will be very much appreciated because I end up resorting to vampire and witch fics 'cause they're my favorite to write.  
Thanks for reading!!!


	25. Lie and Wait Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
*cursing  
* character death? Sorta? You'll see what I mean. It's not bad though I swear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to @pauladiazcruz for being such an amazing beta!  
Also, lots of love to the anonymous person on tumblr who requested the prompt for this one!! I sorta changed it just a bit so that Mikey tells One person rather than no one. But other than that its.the same!!! Yeah so thank you again and I hope you all enjoy!!
> 
> *chapter title.is from Ghost of You*

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit….

Mikey is so screwed.

He looks down cautiously at his hands. They’re normal, the same as they were yesterday. The only difference is that they’re see through.  
Yep. You heard him.

Fucking. See through.

And it’s not just his hands, he can barely even see himself in the mirror. At first he’d just thought that it was a hangover. I mean, he did drink a little too much last night. He doesn’t remember going home, that’s for sure. 

But after he tried to open his bedroom door, only to find his hand going through the knob, he’s slowly been trying to piece together what happened.

All he remembers for sure was that someone, probably Pete, the fucker, handed him a few too many shots at whoever’s house party they were at. His pounding head and general sense of, I’m gonna freaking hurl, is proof of that.

Normal hangover shit.

But being see through?

Nope, not fucking normal unless he didn’t get the message the last 20 times he’s drank too much.

Fuck.

Mikey stares at his hand, willing it to do something other than be transparent. 

He’s too tired for this shit. It’s not even morning yet. 

Slowly, somehow, his hand returns to it’s normal, non-see through, self. 

He turns it over quickly, a silent gasp escaping him. Mikey quickly grabs his phone from his desk, shocked and relieved that he can actually fucking hold it now.

In his excitement, his concentration wavers and the phone falls from his hand and clunks loudly onto his bedroom floor. He curses but bends over to try and retrieve it.

With some focus he’s able to hold it again, though if he has to do this shit for everything it’s gonna get old. Fast. 

Either way, Mikey turns the phone around, pleased to find no cracks.  
He itches to call someone, maybe Pete or Ray, and drag their asses over at whatever-the-fuck o-clock time it is and demand for them to help him fix this. Because even though he’s holding his phone, his figure in the mirror is still very much transparent.  
Resisting the urge to kick the mirror hard enough to make it fall off the door and hopefully shatter into a billion pieces, Mikey unlocks his phone and scrolls down through his contacts.

Pete is probably hungover and dead to the world, or possibly still drunk, and Ray’s most likely asleep right now. Mikey really doesn’t know who else to call.

Gerard’s in his room downstairs and there’s a fair chance that he’s still awake. Besides, his brother’s all for that creepy supernatural shit, right? He might just know what’s wrong and why Mikey’s aparently some fucking ghost or some shit.

Wait… does that mean he died? 

Is he dead? Like is Mikey’s body just fucking chilling in some random person’s back yard?

Pushing down the panic that that thought brings, Mikey tosses his phone aimlessly onto his bed and goes over to the door.

He focuses hard, a small headache already forming behind his eyes, but his hand grasps the door knob on his first try. Thankfully, his footsteps make absolutely no noise as he sneaks down the hallway.

Maybe he should be more concerned but right now he sorta wishes he’d been able to be this quiet the half a dozen times he’s snuck out in his life. 

Either way, he carefully navigates the dark hallway that leads from his and his parents’ rooms to the flight of stairs that opens the rest of the house. From there he walks quickly through the kitchen and makes it to the small door all but hidden at the edge of the room. 

Faintly he can hear music playing, so either Gerard’s still awake or he’s fallen asleep with the music on. 

Mikey takes a deep breath, debating whether or not he should actually involve his brother in this. Whatever this is.

If he’s actually dead… 

He shakes his head roughly. There’s bound to be another explanation that doesn’t involve his family fucking burying him at 17 years old. 

Finding his resolve and focusing as hard as he can, Mikey knocks as loudly as he dares on the basement door. He learned a while ago to not just barge in like he used to when they were younger, but he fears that Gerard won’t be able to hear him.

“Gee?” he calls, hoping that his voice isn’t something he has to focus on too.

The music pauses and he knocks again, this time a little louder.

Footsteps creak up the stairs and Mikey finds himself holding his breath.  
What if Gerard can’t see him? 

What if he’s really dead and- and-

The door swings open, spilling faint light onto the floor at Mikey’s feet. 

“Mikes?” Gerard asks, his hair sticking up at odd angles like he’s been running his hands through it all night.

He’s got pajama pants on but Mikey can clearly tell he’s not been sleeping. There’s orange and red paint all over him and he can smell the coffee pot from here.

Gerard squints a little and Mikey once again fears that he can’t see him.

“What’s goin’ on? I figured you’d crash after the party?” 

“I- I- Gee I don’t-”

Mikey can’t help the frustrated tears that begin to fill his eyes. He wipes at them angrily but he only feels pathetic when Gerard’s face morphs into concern. 

Gerard reaches out, probably to pull him into a hug, but Mikey backsteps quickly.

“Mikey what’s wrong?”

He brings a trembling hand up for Gerard to see. It’s not quite transparent, just like before, but it’s absolutely noticeable. 

“What the-”

Gerard reaches out to grab Mikey’s hand but his fingers fall through like it’s open air. He looks back to Mikey with wide, scared eyes.

“What happened?”

“I- I don’t know. I woke up and- and I can’t touch things and I’m see through and I-”  
“But you knocked,” Gerard insists desperately.

“I can touch things- if I- if I concentrate hard enough.”

“Fuck- Mikey how?”  
“I don’t know!” he all but shouts before instantly shrinking down on himself. “I don’t know.”

“Focus for a second, please. Let me hug you Mikey.”  
It’s hard but he manages to concentrate enough so that Gerard can wrap his arms around him. Instantly he melts, burying his head in his brother’s shoulder. He can’t stop the tears, the force of them too strong.

By some miracle, he doesn’t fade out again and Gerard’s able to hold him until the sobs dissolve into miserable little hiccups.

“Shhh. We’ll figure it out, okay? It’s gonna be okay.”  
Gerard’s hand sits warmly on the back of Mikey’s head, the familiar position only barely making the ache in his chest dissipate.

“What if I’m dead?” he whispers into the fabric of Gerard’s shirt.

He smells of paint and coffee, of home and safety. Mikey wants to melt into the smell. 

When he was younger Gerard would let him hide in his room whenever he had a nightmare or couldn’t sleep. He’d let him use his paints when he was sad, even though Mikey wasted more than he actually painted.

But it’s been a long time since he’s been this scared, this emotional with his brother. They’ve grown up and school and jobs and friends have all gotten in the way of those precious hours that Mikey remembers. He hasn’t been in Gerard’s room in months, hasn’t spent a day with him in longer. 

He misses it.

And now, if he’s actually dead, he won’t be able to do those things ever again.

“C’mon,” Gerard says gently, leading Mikey down the steps.

His room looks the same honestly.

There’s a fuck ton of posters, covering just about every inch of the walls, along with a large desk crammed in the corner. It’s got whatever he was working on spread out on top. The paints still have the lids off and Mikey can see how the brush he was using has rolled a little from where he sat it down.

Gerard leads him to sit on the bed and Mikey is surprised to find that he can. Even so, he rests his head in his hands, trying to breathe deeply enough to make the ache in his chest go away.

“Mikey?”

He groans miserably, not even bothering to look up.

“You gotta tell me what happened. I won’t be mad. I promise,” Gerard presses gently, a soothing hand pressed to Mikey’s back.  
He wasn’t even concentrating that time.

“I went to that party,” he begins, looking up as Gerard nods slowly. “Uh- I think someone convinced me to take a couple extra shots. But it-like turned into a lot. After that- after that I don’t know. I woke up in my bed and I realized I couldn’t open the door and that my reflection was all fucked up and-”  
“Mikey,” Gerard interrupts. 

Mikey looks down, realizing that the hand Gerard had on his back has fallen down onto the bed.

“Shit…”  
“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”  
“NO! It’s not okay! What am I gonna do Gee? I can’t go to school like this. Fuck, I can’t let mom and dad see me!”  
“We don’t tell them,” Gerard says calmly, though his hands are clenched into fists on his lap.

“What?”

“We don’t tell them. Anyone. I’ll help you.”

“That’s impossible,” Mikey interjects hopelessly.

“No it’s not. I mean you’ve got a month until you graduate. You just gotta keep it hidden until then.”

“And after that?”

“I- I don’t know,” Gerard admits quietly. “But we shouldn’t worry about then. For now let's’ focus on tonight.”

Mikey nods miserably, letting his head rest on his hand again. He’s got a massive headache forming, though he’s not sure if it’s because of the alcohol or him concentrating so hard.

“Okay. Good. Are you hungry?” Gerard asks gently, wrapping an arm around Mikey to pull him into a side hug.

It doesn’t take as much concentration as before to make it so Gerard’s hand doesn’t pass straight through him.

“Sorta?” 

“We can order take-out if you want?”

“In the middle of the night?”

Gerard laughs, the movement shaking Mikey a little.

“It’s like 5am. But I know a place that delivers 24/7.”

“Fuck yeah. Please?”  
“Always. So, Italian sound good?”

____________________________________________________

Mikey makes it through the night. Or well, the day.

He doesn’t know how long he spends downstairs with Gerard but it’s a long time. 

His emotions keep swinging. One moment he’ll be fine, stealing a bite of Gerard’s food and laughing as he pouts about it, and the next he’s wondering if anyone has found his dead body yet.

It’s exhausting, in more ways than one, but somehow, he makes it until nightfall again.

Mikey’s getting better at touch though. 

Gerard can reach out and touch him without warning and nine times out of ten he’ll be solid enough. Thought there was one time where Gerard’s hand got stuck in Mikey’s shoulder ‘cause he concentrated too late.

He slept most of the day away, curled up on Gerard’s bed while his brother scoured the internet for anything that could help them. Mikey texted their parents and told them he was staying with Pete so they wouldn’t worry about him not being in his room.

But now that it’s night again, he has to face the daunting task of dinner.

It’s a thing they do every other night. Every single night was a bit much to ask, especially with Gerard’s night shifts at work and Mikey’s “sleepovers” with friends. I.e. the house parties.

Normally he enjoys family dinners. It’s nice to sit around the table or on the couches and just sorta catch up.

Maybe other people don’t feel the same, he’s heard a lot of his friends complaining about forced family time, but Mikey loves it. His parents are weird but c’mon it’s Jersey. What’d you expect.

“What if I can’t hold the fork?” Mikey asks as Gerard comes back down the stairs.

He’d changed his clothes, jeans replacing pajama pants and a shirt that might actually be clean as well. Mikey hasn’t changed but really, he’s got more important matters to deal with.

“You held it just find yesterday with the take-out. You’ll be fine Mikey.”  
Gerard is taking this whole dead and now a ghost-thing very well. Mikey’s not sure if he’s actually as unphased with it as he’s acting or if he’s internally really torn up about it. He’s not sure which would be better.

“What if they find out?”  
“They won’t. If something happens and you like- phase through the table or some shit- I’ll say I’m helping you work on a magic act for school?  
“That shit won’t work.”  
“It might,” Gerard presses, something in his tone telling Mikey to stop arguing.

So he nods sheepishly and stands. 

"Okay, pick up your phone," Gerard instructs. 

And Mikey does, easily scooping the phone off the bed. 

It's getting easier and he doesn't have to think as hard to do simple things like this. Gerard is smiling when Mikey turns back around, something like relief washing over his features.

"Okay, they haven't seen you in like two days so they'll probably want a hug."

Gerard steps closer, wrapping his arms around Mikey. With a little concentration he's able to ensure Gerard's able to touch him and he's rewarded with a pleasant, tight squeeze in return.

"Good," Gerard says as he pulls away. "Ready?"

"Do I have to be?"

"C'mon. It won't be as bad as you're imagining it. Now, you're still kinda hazy. Think you can make yourself more… corporal I guess?"

"Let me try…"

Mikey closes his eyes, concentrating hard. It's tiring and the beginnings of a headache are returning. But he manages.

"Sweet," Gerard says as he opens his eyes again.

"I hope that gets easier…"

"It will," he tells him comfortingly. "Let's go."

_________________________________

Gerard's right.

It's nowhere near as bad as Mikey was thinking dinner with his parents would be. 

They don't even seem to realize anything is different. The four of them just file in around the table like always, laughing and talking as their dad places dinner on the table.

"So, Gerard, how's work been?" their mom asks, taking a sip from her wine glass.

"Boring really. Got a new guy on morning shift but he's always gone by the time I get there so I never really see him."

Mikey stays quiet. Maybe if he doesn't bring attention to himself his parents won't look to closely at him and discover what's wrong.

" I still don't see how you can work nights like you do," their mom says with a shake of her head. "I'd be fine until about midnight and then I would end up falling asleep at the counter."

Gerard laughs easily, digging into his meal the second it's in front of him.

"It's not so bad once you get used to it. 'sides, it's not really boring. More people than you think are happy to read comics in the middle of the night."

"Mikey," at his dad's voice Mikey glances up. "You're more quiet than normal tonight. Is everything okay?"

His dad's tone isn't accusing but Mikey still finds himself shrinking away a bit.

"I'm fine," he tells him as reassuringly as possible. "Late night with Pete last night is all."

"Ah, I'm so glad that you've found a good friend like that boy. You and him are so close."

Despite everything, Mikey's face begins to heat up at his mother's words.

"Tell him that he's welcome over for dinner any time," his mom continues, unaware of the burning embarrassment he's feeling.

Because yeah, Pete's a dick but he's also Mikey's best friend. And so what if Mikey low key has a crush on him.

He's managing.

"So how's the book club going dad?" Gerard asks around a mouthful of meatloaf, saving Mikey from any additional embarrassment.

"Well, we just started Steven King's It. Tomorrow we're gonna talk about how different it is to the new movies.

You see, their dad's book club isn't your stereotypical "50 shades of grey" kind of thing. They mostly read horror and science fiction novels, sometimes talking about the movies that are made out of them.

Mikey doesn't hear the rest of the conversation though, he's too busy trying to focus enough to eat his dinner. His parents will get worried and all that annoying shit they do if he doesn't finish his food.

He wonders if he even needs to eat anymore?

He definitely feels hungry but what if that's more of a habitual thing?

"Mikey?"

Looking up from his plate, Mikey is met with his mother's concerned eyes fixed on him.

"You sure you're alright honey?"

"Yeah mom. I just ate like a fuck ton of pizza with Pete and I'm not really hungry."

"Okay well I was trying to get your attention for almost a minute there. Didn't you feel my hand on your arm?"

Cursing himself for getting so distracted, Mikey apologizes and let's his mom go on about how she hopes he's already been applying to colleges. He nods at all the right places but still doesn't say much.

"I think I'm gonna go lay down," he says a little while later, earning a barely concealed worried glance from his brother.

But it's his mom who says something.

"Well… okay honey. If you need us just yell."

"I'm fine mom, night guys."

He tries not to rush as he scrapes his plate off and sets it in the sink. It takes a lot of effort for him to keep from bolting towards the basement door.

Disappearing inside, Mikey can't help but hope that this won't be permanent.

______________________________

"... did he just go in your room?" 

Gerard stutters a moment, blanking on how to explain his brother's actions. He'd assumed Mikey would think ahead enough to go back to his own room and then come to Gerard's once their parents were asleep.

"He uh- we're gonna hang out tonight."

"I thought you have work at 11?" his mom asks suspiciously, though not angrily.

"Yeah, yeah I do but we haven't just like- hung out together in a while and we wanted to tonight."

His mother's eyes narrow and Gerard instantly knows she's on to them. But she just nods and takes a small sip from her glass.

"Alright but it's a school night and he looked tired so don't keep him up too long okay?"

"I won't. Uh I'm gonna go down now before he goes to sleep on me."

"Okay, night baby."

Gerard gets up, kissing his mother on the head as he passes her to put away his plate and giving his father a one armed hug on his way back through. Descending the basement steps, Gerard's never been more relieved for a family dinner to be over. Sure, it went fine and their parents probably know something is up but they've always been more relaxed than other parents when it comes to this sort of thing.

Hopefully though, there'll be a solution or something to fix this. Gerard doesn't want to think of what may happen if Mikey is actually dead.

The thought is horrible in and of itself but as he steps down the last step, Gerard's heart melts a little. Mikey's asleep again on his bed, curled up and peaceful.

He wonders if they'll be able to get back to normal… or if this is their reality now.

Either way, he hopes that things will get easier…

Seeing Mikey so clearly struggling is hard. He's his baby brother. It's Gerard's job to take care of him but this is just so different than teaching him how to play video games or letting him borrow some cash for lunch money.

He crosses the room quietly, smiling softly as he gets closer to Mikey. Reaching over the bed, Gerard pulls the blanket a little higher up.

Mikey hums in his sleep, a faint smile of his own appearing as well.

Why did he ever stop spending time with Mikey? 

It almost feels too little, too late. Except, maybe this is sort of a second chance. 

For the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact that's random, my internet craped out today so the second half of this was written on my phone. That was Fun...  
On topic though, sorta, black parade is 13 years old today. Like I was in second grade st the time. Thar shits weird to think about and I've been low key freaking all day. Like my sister is only a few months older than the album and she's in Highschool. Like tf???? That's not how time works?!


	26. House of Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
*cursing  
* CHARACTER DEATH (just for this one chapter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evening everyone!  
Wanna thank @pauladiazcruz for being the one to request this chapter and helping me to edit it!!  
I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Chapter title is (obviously) from House of Wolves by My Chem)

Frank’s not even sure how he managed to let Ray convince him to do this. 

He hates corn mazes.

They’re essentially just exercise with fucking cheap jump scares scattered through. It’s dumb and he hates it. 

But he’s the one who agreed on this being his punishment if he lost. He’s not quite sure why Ray wanted this to be what he had to do if he lost, seeing as Frank’s not at all creeped out by corn mazes. It’s just people in costumes and chainsaws with no chains on them.

Boring.

As Frank gets out of his car, letting the door slam shut to prove how frustrated he is for having to be here -even though Ray isn’t here right now ‘cause it’s not his punishment. The fucker.

His shoes make an odd sound against the hay strewn over the parking lot. The weird, kinda squeaky but crunchy noise is enough to make the annoyance build even more. With the wind blowing harshly and the last of the sunlight disappearing behind a far off mountain range, Frank shivers from the cold. 

Pulling his jacket a little tighter around himself, and already planning on blaming Ray if he gets sick, Frank tries to not stalk over to the ticket booth. It’s small, just plywood and paint handmade into a box shape so the ticket person has somewhere to sit. 

With the sun setting and Halloween just around the corner, the leaves on the trees surrounding the field are bright and colorful. There’s no pattern to the colors, at least not that he can tell. In places there’s a patch of trees with only red leaves but a bright yellow one will sit directly in the middle. To his left, there’s a side of the mountain in the distance that has something close to a polka dot pattern, reds and oranges interchanging randomly.

Frank relaxes a bit, stepping forward to actually get into the decent sized line. There’s a family directly in front of him with three young kids, all squealing and running around in their excitement. In front of them is a couple, holding hands and talking quietly. 

There seems to be a lot of couples actually, now that Frank looks. 

It’s a good turn out, if he does say so himself. Especially since he’s in the middle of nowhere. Ray of course had found a maze in fucking West Virginia of all places.

Frank’s not even sure how he found this place.

The line moves quickly and before it’s even truly dark he’s grabbing his ticket and hearing the speal about rules.

No flashlights.

No eating or drinking.

No running.

No walking back out the front.

All in all, pretty boring.

And Frank’s totally gonna use his phone camera so fuck them.

He just wants to get this over with so he can go home, shower, and possibly commit first degree murder on Ray. Ya know, normal shit. 

But he drove all the way over here so he might as well try to not be completely miserable.

The ticket person holds him back a few moments while the family in front of him heads into the maze. Frank is allowed to walk in right behind them and the person behind him follows shortly after.

The annoying sound of his shoes on the hay persists and he watches as the kids yell and play just ahead of him. Frank can also hear two people talking, possibly one of the couples, but their words are muffled and far away. Whoever is behind him is quiet and he doesn’t pay much attention to them. They’re alone just like him so maybe this was their punishment too.

Either way, he was certain that it would be louder than this, fake scary music and recorded screams or something.

But Frank feels relaxed. He can hear the parents telling the kids to be quiet, can hear their laughter as well as the kids don’t listen.

The corn stocks are taller than him, by a good two or three feet from the looks of it, and they sway slightly in a breeze that Frank can’t feel. Within a few moments of walking straight, he nearly runs into one of the “walls”. 

It’s dark, dark enough for him to have completely missed how the maze comes to a T. There’s a path to his left as well as one to his right, both cloaked in shadows.

Frank’s fingers are beginning to tingle from the cold and he shoves them into his pockets before choosing randomly. It’s not like they actually make it possible for you to get lost in these things. There’s little kids here so maybe Ray picked like a super family friendly one that doesn’t even do the stupid jump scares. From the looks of it, that may be the case.

Wait-

Frank spins around, looking behind him and down the path that runs in the other direction.

Wasn’t the family like right fucking there?

He strains, trying to hear them but there’s nothing. Nothing.

Where’d the other person go? 

They were right behind him weren’t they?

Shrugging it off and not about to yell for them like a little kid, Frank tells himself that they just managed to get the kids to be quiet and they went down the other path.

As he continues walking, Frank notices how odd it is without the family’s voices filling the maze around him. Which is fine, the paths all lead to the same place, but also a little…

Well not scary, he’s not fucking scared, but it’s just kind of a bummer.

It was at least some entertainment from the boring ass walk that this maze is turning into. He’d expected something not just a stroll through a field in the dark.

Maybe he should have brought his headphones, at least then he wouldn’t have to keep listening to the annoying sound of straw beneath his shoes. And it is annoying. Trust him. 

Soon he reaches another split in the path, this one big enough to where he just sorta had a sense that he was standing in a bigger area. If that makes sense?

Less stuffy that’s for sure. Plus he can just barely feel the breeze from earlier, meaning that he’s in either a larger path or it’s another turn. 

Choosing randomly again, Frank sets off.

It’s quiet now, more so than before.

He can hear his own breaths, short little puffs as he walks leisurely down the path. There’s still no sounds, no jumpscares or anything.

This is one boring ass corn maze that’s for fucking sure.

Bitterly he stops and checks his pockets, hoping that maybe he’s wrong and he did stuff his headphones there before leaving this morning.

Nope, nothing but his phone and a pack of cigarettes. 

Would he get in trouble for smoking here?

Fucking probably.

With a sigh, Frank starts walking again.

It starts off as nothing at first, just a faint chill on the back of his neck. He pulls the hood of his jacket up and doesn’t think of it any further.

But then he swears that there’s bright, canine eyes staring back at him when he glances behind him. Frank blinks and they’re gone.  
It’s probably just those stupid glow in the dark decorations that you can get at literally any store this time of year.

He continues walking, humming a little under his breath to pass the time. If he had service you can bet your ass that he’d be blowing Ray’s phone up. 

Frank loves Ray, he’s like a big brother to him, but he’s also annoying and comes up with the worst punishments. And Frank likes to bet on things. He always loses. Hence why he wants to bitch at Ray to make him miserable too.

Something crunches behind him, not quite as sharp sounding as a stick but far too loud to just be a piece of straw or hay. Feeling goosebumps rising on his arms and down the back of his neck, seemingly on their own accord, Frank turns around.

Nothing.

Just darkness and the smell of the corn around him.

But as he begins walking again, Frank can’t help but feel like someone’s watching him. 

It’s stupid and he feels like a little kid for getting creeped out over nothing. But the feeling doesn’t go away.

If anything it follows him.

Frank forces himself to take a deep breath and not go sprinting down the path. He’s just getting creeped over by an animal or something. He is in the middle of nowhere so the chances of it being a racoon or something are high.

Just then, a sharp howl pierces through the maze.

Frank stops dead in his tracks, looking around in every direction for the source of the sound. That sounded way too real to be a recording or some asshole fucking with him.

It happens again, less than a minute later, loud and bone chilling. And closer. Definitely fucking closer.

Fuck this.

Frank starts walking as fast as he can, unable to see in front of him but going on instinct that this is the right way. Because you can’t actually get lost in public mazes right?

Plus, from the sound of it there might be an actual wolf or something that’s gotten in and he’s not about to see if it’s fucking friendly.

The quiet is back, Frank notices belatedly. But it’s not an empty sort of quiet like before. It feels huge, like a bated breath just waiting on… something. 

His heartbeat is getting faster, each step feeling more like running towards something rather than away from it. More snaps chorus around him, sweeping in a circle as he walks. 

It’s watching him, that much he knows for sure. 

But it sounds big, bigger than a normal wolf.

Then he smells it.

It’s like rotten flesh and wet dog all rolled into one. Frank’s stomach turns violently, the stench making his nose burn with each breath he takes.

Another howl tears through the air. It’s louder than before and so much closer. Almost as if it was right behind him.

Frank stops walking, an eerie sort of calm passing over him. 

He can’t run away, even though every terrified bone in his body is begging him to. So he turns to face it.

This close he can hear its breathing, deep and ragged. Almost panting.

The stench is even worse but that’s the least of his problems as he finally turns around.

There, standing in the darkness only a couple passes away is… a wolf.

But it’s huge, standing on four legs and still taller than Frank. 

The thing growls and he can only just make out the lines of it’s teeth. They’re huge, big enough to tear him apart. Easily.

This isn’t normal and this definitely isn’t someone in a costume.

It’s staring at him, watching him so intently that Frank’s almost convinced it won’t eat him. Almost.

Those canine eyes are intelligent big and bright and curious. 

It growls again and Frank holds his breath.

“A snack for the road,” it says in a grating voice, making Frank’s heart nearly beat out of his chest.

Frank doesn’t have time to run before the thing lunges at him. His head connects harshly with the ground, his vision instantly going black. Thankfully he is unconscious by the time the wolf’s fangs tear into his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe this was fun to write!!!!!


	27. Car Crash Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
*cursing  
*car crashes (someone gets hit by a car but it's not graphic)  
*healing factor (like bones shifting into place and stuff. It's not graphic but still)  
*blood/ blood drinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit guys, I have like 5 more days left...  
This month has gone by so quickly but it also feels like a literal lifetime. I enjoy writing, I wouldn't do this if I didn't love it so much, but I seriously cannot wait to have like a week or so where I don't have to write.  
Needless to say, today's was a bit of a challenge because I'm slowly running out of steam. Of course my mind picks the Last Week of updates to get tired! But I'm powering through and I did end up having a lot of fun with this one after I took a break and came back to it!!  
I wanna thank @pauladiazcruz for all of her help! These one-shots wouldn't be the same without her!! <3
> 
> *Chapter title is from Thriller by Fall Out Boy)

The second Ray steps off the curb a black car speeds towards him.  
It’s over before he even realizes what happened and he’s left lying on the pavement, staring at the stars above him. His head spins painfully.  
Actually, he takes that back, everything is painful.

He’s not even sure what part of him it’s coming from, just that it hurts. It takes his breath away, the sharp, burning pain mixing with the aching throb of his head.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck… dude?”

Someone leans over him, dark hair spilling around their soft face. 

They’re pretty, with gentle features and bright hazel eyes that are filling with tears.

“Dude are you okay?” they ask, crouching down and touching his shoulder.

Ray squints, trying to form words and tell this person that he’s fine. He has a healing factor and it should kick in pretty soon.

Hopefully.

He’s never tried getting hit by a car before but it worked on a gunshot wound so…?

“Fuck,” the person says again, scrubbing their eyes and glancing anxiously around them.

It’s the middle of the night and Ray knows there’s not anyone else on the roads right now.

“Okay, okay. Uh… 911. Yeah, I need to get you to a hospital and then-”

“No!”

Breathing heavily from the exertion, Ray pushes himself up onto his elbows. He hears the sickening crunch and clicking sounds as the bones in his arms lock back into place. Good, he’s already starting to heal.

“No?” the cute person asks, reaching out to steady Ray a little.

Another bone, in his foot maybe, snaps back into place. That time he feels it, the sharp pain, and he assumes the nerve damage is being fixed as well. Good for him.

“No,” he says a little more calmly. “I- no hospitals okay. I just- give me a minute…”  
He breathes slowly as something shifts in his stomach, the feeling dull but still painful. Ray groans, not even realizing he’s leaning against the person now.

It’s a good 10 minutes before he can open his eyes again.

Ray can tell he’s not fully healed, that’ll take a few more hours at the least, but he’s well enough to get out from the middle of the street.

Ignoring the stranger’s surprised expression, Ray staggers to his feet. His head rushes violently and he nearly falls back down.

Okay, maybe he should have waited a bit longer.

“Here,” the person says, wrapping an arm around him and steading him. “C’mon at least let me take you home.”  
Ray doesn’t get a chance to protest before he’s being guided into the stranger’s car and buckled up carefully. He distantly hears something else pop back into place but lifting his head off of the window isn’t something he feels capable of at the moment.

“Okay, uh- where do you live?” the person asks, their hands nervously drumming on the steering wheel.

But Ray can’t answer. He’s already feeling that deep sleep creeping up on him. It’s a good thing, his body’s own way of healing him. After he wakes in a day or so, he’ll probably need to feed like a motherfucker but he’ll be fine. But for now he’s already too far away to answer the stranger.

“... Alright, guess we can go back to mine…”  
Ray falls under with the soft rumble of the stranger’s car in the background.

____________________________________________________

Waking up after a healing sleep is always disorienting.

Ray hates it really. 

As he slowly is able to focus his eyes on the unfamiliar ceiling above him, he does a quick inventory of his condition. He’s woken up early before and learned the hard way to not get up until he was sure he was fully healed.

Now that he’s thinking about it, he’s definitely more than a little sore, though that can mean he’s still healing too. He feels really stiff too, like he’s been lying in one place too long.

How long was he out?  
Longest he’s ever taken during these sleeps was like three days but surely he wasn’t hurt that badly right?

When he shifts his head slightly to the side, a painful tinge shoots through him and it pops pleasantly. He tries again, moving his head to the left and finding it much easier this time. Ray blows out a deep breath, trying to get his eyes to focus enough to take in what’s in front of him.

There’s a small, painted wooden nightstand on this side of the bed. It’s mostly clean save for a book of some sorts and a cell phone cord. The wall is a normal, boring shade of white and there’s a door that probably leads to the closet on this side as well. Ray can just barely see the carpet from this angle, an easy shade of grey.

From here, he takes the time to finish checking himself over. When he tries moving his arms there’s only the faintest discomfort left and he’s grateful for it. The same goes for Ray’s bottom half. Though he’s not dumb enough to try and walk just yet.

All in all though, he’s mostly healed. 

And that means he’s hungry, starving really.

His stomach growls and he brings a shaking hand to rest over it in an attempt to make it quiet. Ray’s aware he’s hungry, thank you very much.  
The only problem is that this isn’t his apartment and so his blood bags won’t be in the mini fridge by his bed for just such emergencies. Which is just great because vampires aren’t exactly known for their restraint when they’re hungry. 

Footsteps pad down the hallway and Ray can hear, can smell, the person before they even get to the door. 

Their blood smells sweet, almost… almost too sweet like a desert with too much chocolate piled on. The first bite is good but you start getting sick after the second. But Ray’s starving and he knows that if he lets himself drink from this person he’ll end up killing them.

The door swings open gently, a soft hum coming from whoever’s in the doorway. There’s a gasp as the person finds Ray awake and staring back at them. The person is only vaguely familiar but they stop dead in their tracks as they notice he’s awake.

“Oh, um…” 

The person’s voice is soft, almost nasally. Maybe Ray’s just crazy from hunger but… but he can hear the different emotions spill from just those two words. And they barely even count as words.

But he can hear the shock, concern, and most importantly the guilt pouring off of them. Ray remembers them now.

They look the same as the other night, concerned and hesitant. But they’re also even more beautiful in the dim light of the bedroom that Ray is in.

Their shoulder length black hair is messy, like before, but somehow it makes them all the more attractive. There’s stray strands sticking up randomly, the dark tint to it catching on the dim overhead light. Their eyes are a deep shade of hazel and, if Ray squints, he’s also fairly sure they’ve got a thin lining of eyeliner on as well.

They close the door behind them with their foot, making Ray finally take notice of what’s in their hands. 

The person is holding a glass of water as well as what looks to be a few slices of toast on a small plate. 

“Um,” the person starts, unsure.

Ray can’t help but notice how their face is beginning to turn an adorable shade of pink. 

“I didn’t know what you can eat but… but I figured toast was a safe bet.”

Ray nods, sitting up with a little effort to take the glass of water they offer. It’s cool and refreshing, but he knows that it’s not what he needs right now.

“Do you wanna try and eat something?” the stranger prompts, watching him carefully.

Nodding again because he doesn’t quite trust his voice just yet, Ray takes a careful bite out of the slice of toast. It’s dry save for the smallest smear of butter on top. But it’s good and it helps alleviate some of the hunger. 

He only manages a few bites though, his stomach turning at the thought of any more. The stranger just smiles and takes the plate from him. They set it on the nightstand, their sleeve riding up a bit as they stretch.

They’re close, almost too close, to Ray and just seeing those purple veins in their arm is enough for the hunger to return full force.

Shit.

He squeezes his eyes shut, willing the hunger to fade long enough for him to get home. Just because they hit him with their car doesn’t mean he can drink all of their blood. I mean, c’mon. They’ve clearly been taking care of him while he’s been out. And he’s not a monster, he won’t kill someone like that. 

Especially not someone as cute as this person.

“Dude? Are you- are you alright? You’ve gone pale.”

“Yeah,” he manages quietly, pushing himself up a little more. “I’m good.”

The person gives him a disbelieving look but they shrug it off, a warm smile blossoming on their features. They sit on the other side of the bed and reach out their arm.  
“I’m Gee,” the person tells him gently as his brain finally catches up and he shakes their hand. “I’m really sorry for hitting you with my car… I uh… I was trying to change the song and I only looked down for a second but, well I guess it was long enough…”  
“It’s okay. You really didn’t hurt me.”

Gee gives him that same disbelieving look again as they cross their arms over their chest.

“Okay, okay maybe you did but it’s not like- permanent or anything.”  
They’re still so close to him, within arms reach really, and Ray is fighting with everything in him to not lash out and grab them. He’s stronger than this, he can manage his hunger. But right now Gee’s blood is all he can smell.

“I uh, I’m kinda assuming you’re not human,” Gee asks quietly, eyes downcast.

“I’m not. Look, thank you for helping me, it really means a lot, but I’ve got to go I-”

He doesn’t make it far.

Gee’s stronger than they look, one hand on his shoulder enough to keep him in place. Or maybe he’s weaker than he thought.

“Stay,” they press almost desperately. “I- I just wanna help. I know I’m probably the last person you wanna see right now but helping you get back on your feet is the least I can do. So, please, let me help you.”

Their eyes are much more intense when they’re this close. Ray can see the different shades of green and brown, of grey and maybe even yellow, blending together and boring into him with so much emotion- so much feeling- that he just can’t look away.

“Please,” Gee says again, more desperation seeping through. 

They look really torn up about this and Ray decides that they at least deserve an explanation.

“Okay.”

And then they’re smiling, tiny little teeth on display and Ray swears his heart melts completely at the sight.

“You’re right,” he begins, Gee’s hand falling from his shoulder to rest in their lap. 

He misses the contact instantly but knows it’s probably for the best. Even this far from them he can hear each of their heart beats.They are little fast and he can smell adrenaline coming from Gee, but it’s all still so sickly sweet.

“I’m not human,” Ray finishes at last. “I’m a vampire.”

He waits for the laugh, for Gee to kick him out. Or worse, for them to pull out a gun with silver bullets and-

“I kinda gathered that,” they tell him with a laugh, swiping a long strand of hair behind their ear.

“I-I uh- you did?”  
“Well I mean I hit you and you didn’t die so…”

They have a point.

“And you’re not like, freaked out about it?”  
“No, I mean that first morning when the sun burned your arm ‘cause I had the curtains open was pretty stressful. But I just closed the curtains and by dark you were all healed again,” Gee shrugs adjusting their shirt nervously. “So I just like, assumed you weren’t human. That or I’m finally losing what little sanity I have left,” they finish with an airy chuckle.

“You’re not nuts. I’m definitely not human.”

“I feel responsible ya know? I mean it is my fault you were hurt to begin with.”

And Ray can hear the sincerity in their words, can see the shining guilt in their eyes and in the way their hand still hasn’t stopped messing with their shirt.

Without thinking, Ray reaches over and places his hand over theirs, just to get them to stop fidgeting for one second so he can make sure they know he’s not mad.

Gee blushes for some reason. And it’s not the cute dusting of pink on a person’s cheeks like you see in the movies. It’s burning and red, going down their neck until it’s hidden by the oversized band shirt they’re wearing underneath a worn in looking flannel. 

It’s insanely adorable though, the way he hears their breath hitch and how they don’t seem to know what to do with their other hand.

But Ray’s also starving and with all this blood rushing towards the surface of their skin, the way his hand is right over theirs, god- he just wants to sink his teeth in. He wonders if they taste as sweet as they smell.  
Are they a screamer? The second his fangs pierce their vein will they scream so loudly that their voice grows hoarse?

“Hey, uh- ow- dude- dude let go. You’re hurting me!”

Ray snaps back to the moment as Gee attempts to pull free from the death grip he has on their hand. Their fingers are turning purple from lack of circulation and he can feel the bones beginning to give. 

“Let go!” 

Gee yanks their arm free and they scramble up so fast that Ray can’t even react. They hit the wall behind them with a thud, their eyes wide in fear and pain while they clutch their bruised hand to their chest.

Shit. 

God, Ray’s supposed to have better control than this. 

He takes a forceful deep breath, willing the hunger away for just a moment. He can’t have it clouding his mind, can’t risk hurting Gee again.  
Oh god… he hurt them.

Their hand is already turning blue and there’s tears collecting in the corner of their beautiful hazel eyes. They’re staring at him, eyes still comically wide- and yet Ray doesn’t feel like laughing.

“Gee? I- fuck I’m sorry… I didn’t mean-”

“Why did you do that?” they demand sharply.

Gee’s voice shakes but Ray doesn’t feel any less inclined to tell them the truth.

“I’m starving and I lost control for just a second. I’m so- god I’m so fucking sorry.” 

He pulls his knees up against his chest, wrapping his arms around them and resting his head on top. The room is pleasantly warm around him but he barely notices. Ray’s killed before, of course he has- you don’t live as long as he has without at least a couple of deaths on your hands- but it was never like this. He’s never hurt anyone when he was in control.

Assholes of his kind who were playing with their food, yeah he’s killed a few of them. More than a few.

He just can’t stand them trying to lure people into bed with them only to kill them once they’re satisfied. Like it’s some sick game.

Ray doesn’t kill his meals, if he can help it he gets the donated kind. He has the vampire who turned him to thank for his restraint.  
What would he say now? As Ray nearly broke a person’s hand just because they blushed!

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

Ray looks up, only raising his head as much as he has to. Gee’s still against the door, hand still clutched tight, but they don’t look scared anymore. If anything, the concern is back.

“The night you hit me,” he answers quietly, letting his head drop back down.  
He just wants to eat and then he can go back to sleep for a fucking week and deal with this shit later.

God he’s so tired.

“That was three nights ago, almost four. I- how often do you need to uh…”

“Drink the blood of innocents?”

Gee gulps.

“Yeah, that.”

Shifting to lean back against the headboard with a sigh, Ray tries to ignore the part of him begging to just be let go. If he does drop his guard, he has no doubt Gee would be dead in minutes. 

“Three squared like everyone else,” he says at last. “But healing always makes it worse.”

“So you need to eat?”  
“Yeah…” he says skeptically.

“Then take it.”

Gee’s sitting on the edge of the bed again before Ray can even process their words. Their arm is outstretched as they roll their flannel sleeve up.

God… they smell so fucking good.

It’s the arm he hurt and he can smell the blood pooling in the bruises that are forming under their skin. He can hear their heart beat again.

It rings in his head, like the one villain from Doctor Who. 

“No,” he protests weakly, already feeling his resolve slipping. 

“You need it. I can’t have you taking off my hand everytime we touch. Otherwise that’s gonna get really fuckin’ awkward soon enough.”  
The moment they register what they've said, the blush returns full force.

“Just- we can talk about how I find you insanely attractive in a bit, just fucking eat.”

So Ray grabs their arm, gently this time, and brings the pale underside up to his nose. He breathes deeply, breathing in the smell of their skin and something… vaguely fruity as well. More so though, he can smell their blood.

Bringing their arm to his mouth, his tongue darts out of its own accord to taste them. 

Slightly salty but still, sweet.

He feels goosebumps rise up along their arm as well as the tiny shutter that encompases them.

Ray’s fangs slide effortlessly into the flesh of their arm, though he tries to be as careful as possible. He feels Gee tense up, their sharp intake of breath at the sudden stinging pain. 

It’s been years but he remembers that feeling well.

But he can’t think on that, not when there’s warm, sweet blood flowing into his mouth. His head rushes with it, his mind going blank as the hunger finally begins to be sated.

It’s incredible and he greedily sucks on the puncture wounds to draw more of the sweet blood into his mouth. Without noticing he moans into this, grabbing Gee’s arm with his other hand so he can hold on better as he sucks another mouthful.

Far too soon he feels the rush subside, feels the blood begin to gain that gross aftertaste that means it’s trying to clot. Reluctantly he pulls away, breathing heavily as his senses return and the harsh quiet of the room sets in.

When he at last looks at Gee, they’re pressing the hem of their shirt over the wound to attempt to stop the bleeding. They’re definitely a few shades more pale than before and their hands are shaking a little.  
But when they happen to look up and make eye contact with Ray, he’s rewarded with that adorable smile again.  
He mirrors it, getting lost in how bright their eyes seem to be and just how freaking tiny their teeth are.

“Feeling better?” they asks quietly, their voice a little rough. 

“Yeah… I- thank you. Again.”

“My fault you needed it in the first place,” Gee counters with a smirk, though they’re holding their arm cautiously against them.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No… no. I mean my hand’s a little bruised but I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Too late. You’re too cute to not worry about,” he teases, leaning forward a bit without realizing it.

“Ah right. We were gonna talk about something like that weren’t we?”

“What? How you’re like the most attractive person who’s ever ran me over?”

They punch him playfully in the arm, rolling their eyes even as their face heats up.

“No you idiot. You’re the attractive one dipshit.”

“Fake news. I demand a recount,” Ray teases and before he knows it they’re both leaning forward.  
Their noses are inches apart and he can feel their breath on his lips. But Gee’s eyes are set on his. Ray gets lost again, watching the galaxies shift and move inside their irises. In the long eyelashes that frame their eyes, the definite smear of eyeliner that is drawn there. The soft freckles along their cheekbones and the beginnings of brown roots just barely begin to show on their forehead. 

Gee kisses him first, the softness of their lips and the feel of their palm resting on his cheek enough to calm his racing mind.

They kiss passionately, deep and sure with no hesitation. Ray finds himself trying to keep up, to not simply dissolve into a puddle right here and let them do whatever they want.  
He wraps his arms around their waist, pulling them closer even as the kiss slows to a stop. They breathe heavily against each other as the realization begins to set in.

“Gee, we- we can’t.”  
Gee pulls back, hurt flashing across their face even though they try to hide it.

“What do you mean?” they ask carefully, unconsciously protecting their sore arm and hand.

“I’m not human and you’ve seen how I can hurt you… if I somehow truly lost control I-”

Ray is suddenly cut off by Gee crashing their lips together once again. But it’s tender, slow, and he loses every train of thought the longer they stay connected. All that matters is the happy little hum Gee makes when he tangles his hand in their hair. Not pulling, just letting it flow through his fingers and relishing in the way it makes them shiver.

When they pull apart this time, Ray knows his argument has been beaten.

“You were saying?” they prompt, eyebrows raised playfully.

“Are you sure? I- I would love to do this, to try this out but… but it’s a lot.”

“I’m sure. ‘Sides,” Gee flashes him a smirk. “I must’a run you over for a reason.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Ray as a vampire for once???  
I dunno I like Never see him as one so I figured why not?  
Also, don't text and drive kids. Also, also, don't change songs while driving. Set your playlist before you go!  
Please be safe!!! The person you might hit probably Won't be a vampire with a healing factor... just saying. 
> 
> Anyway, of less importance, I finally bought my Halloween costume. Since I've managed to update every day ( a true miracle in itself) my sister did Not get a say in what I'm going to be. For anyone who cares, I will be a vampire because it's classic and I've been told I look like one from time to time.  
Hi, I don't see the sun more than 10 minuets a day and I prefer to do things at night rather than during the day.  
That's all it takes to be a vampire right???


	28. We'll Hear The Sound As You're Falling Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
* cursing  
*mild burns/blistered skin  
*fainting ( I don't know if that's a trigger but I'm mentioning it just to be safe)  
*There's also very a brief, non-specific mention of torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evening everyone!  
Today's update was requested by Winterm!!  
This was originally gonna only be one chapter but then it got Long and well... I figured I'd better break it up rather than have a 45+ page update.  
So yeah, I copied the prompt at the beginning so you have a vague idea what's going on!!  
A very huge thank you to @pauladiazcruz for being my amazing beta for this challenge!! <3  
I hope you all enjoy!   
(holy shit dudes we have like 4 more updates....)
> 
> *Chapter title is from Heaven Help Us, a b-side by My Chemical Romance. Not enough people know that song and yeah, you should listen to it. It's on Spotify and I'm also fairly sure it's on YouTube. So yeah, check it out.*

The Prompt: “Frank is a demon/fallen angel/whatever basically disowned by all other demons for marrying Gerard. The demons hate him but can’t actually physically harm him while he’s on Earth. That’s all fine and good until Gerard is cursed by something or another and the only way to help him is to take him to Hell to be healed by the others (as he lost his powers when he married a human)”

“Do you even fucking know what you’re getting yourself into?!”

Frank flinches back, watching the anger burn in his best friend’s eyes. It’s orange and red, burning through the soft brown of Ray’s normal eye color. Hell fire.

“I know,” he admits in a whisper. 

Because he does.

He’s spent months searching for another way, for anything that meant he wouldn’t have to give up this part of himself. But when he’d found no solutions hidden in the back of the Grand Library, well Frank realized what was more important.

It was a fragile human named Gerard. 

He was more important than all of this. More so than Frank’s home, his position on the Devil’s council… all of it.

“You’ll lose your powers Frank! You’ll be human!”

The way Ray says human, like he’s spitting it out as if the very word burns his tongue, it makes red hot anger rise up inside of Frank.

They’re fucking wrong about humans.

Humans aren’t some disgusting infestation whose only purpose is to reproduce and provide souls for Hell. They’re not fucking evil or innately bad like everyone down here seems to assume.

It’s so much more complicated than that.  
Gerard has shown Frank that other side of humanity. 

The side of picnics in the park and eating at a nice restaurant with someone you enjoy spending time with. He took Frank to the beach, let him stand in the waves for the first time in his 400 years of life. Hundreds of years of living and he’d never stared out at the horizon, or noticed how the world seemed to simply stop beyond that little hazy line. He’d never felt the waves crashing against his legs, never gotten sand in his hair. Never gotten a lazy day spent in the sand with someone he loves.

Frank saw the more subtle side of humanity as well. It’s in how stunning Gerard looks as he’s hunched over his drawing pad, his eyes focused solely on whatever he’s drawing, his hair sometimes pulled up in a hair tie as he works. Frank thinks that maybe that’s when he fell in love with him. That first time he saw him making art.

Because there is no ulterior motive for Gerard. He paints because he enjoys it, he eats his favorite food because the taste reminds him of home. There’s no endgame, nothing. 

Just pure… humanity.

And Frank can’t get enough of it. Can’t get enough of him. 

Because Gerard wants him. He begs Frank to stay with him just a little longer, heartbroken that he has to leave. And Gerard tries to hide it, hide the tears that fall when Frank has to leave yet again. Frank sees though. He sees it in the smear of eyeliner on a pillow from Gerard crying in his sleep the night before. He sees it in the tremble in Gerard’s hand as they eat breakfast together right before Frank leaves.

It’s horrible, loving someone so much that it feels like your heart is going to burst out of your fucking chest whenever you’re with them but being the reason they cry themself to sleep every time you leave.

And well, maybe Frank doesn’t want to leave again.

“And what’s so bad about being human?” Frank demands at last, watching the way Ray’s face falls as he realizes his mind is made up.

He takes a long look at Ray, something in his gut telling him this is the last time he’s ever going to see him again.

The way his long, curly hair brushes the tops of his shoulders. How his eyes are always so kind, you’d almost never assume he was a demon. Save for the curling horns poking out through the hair on the top of his head. 

He has strong horns, large and thick with age. Ray’s never had to regrow his, not like he has.

Frank remembers those decades well, the itching pain and humiliation of looking like a spawnling as he waited on them to regrow. The demon he fought and lost to was bigger than him, older than him by eons, but he’s never been good at staying out of trouble.  
But he and Ray? They’ve been through so much together, hundreds of years of friendship and jobs and- and Frank would be lying if he said he wasn’t going to miss him.

“Frank…”

The anger’s gone now, Ray’s eyes slowly shifting back to their normal brown color as he realizes Frank’s serious about this.

“I love him,” Frank tells him honestly.

“I know… just- I can’t change your mind?”  
Frank shakes his head and brings Ray in for one last hug. His chest hurts with it, with the way he knows he’s giving up the only thing he’s ever had. The only friend he’s ever had.

But Ray wasn’t the one who decided that Frank had to choose.

“Go,” Ray tells him as they pull apart. “I’ll keep the guards off of you as long as I can. Once you get to the surface they can’t hurt you but- but if you survive the Fall,” Frank takes a shaky breath at that, nodding his head. “you’ll be human.”  
“I know. Thank you Ray.”  
And so Frank wastes no time, he breaks off in a sprint as Ray turns to face the guards that will be there any minute.

______________________________________________

Gerard is relaxing on the couch, scrolling through Netflix on the TV to try and find something to watch. 

He’s bored, as he always is whenever Frank isn’t here. 

God… he misses him like nothing else. 

It’s always too quiet, too lonely whenever Frank isn’t here to fill the silence. He’s always taking, always asking Gerard a million and one questions about everything. 

Why does the TV work like that?

You have to pay to get food? To which Gerard has replied yes every time he’s asked. But don’t you need it to live?!

Remembering those conversations brings a sort of bitter sweet smile to Gerard’s face. Frank always gets excited over things like that, curious about the world that he was always told was “plagued” by humanity.

Gerard sighs, blinking the tears from his eyes as he selects something randomly on the TV. He just needs some background noise, something to distract him.

Frank had stayed too long this time, way too long. It’ll be a month tomorrow since he left.

He’d told Gerard that he was in trouble with his boss and that it might be awhile before he could come back… if ever. And Gerard had shushed him and told him that everything was going to be okay.  
Because it had to be, right?

Pulling his knees up against his chest, Gerard buries his face in the soft fabric of the blanket as the first true tears begin to well up. 

He hates crying, hates that Frank is probably getting punished right now and he’s the one acting all miserable. But that only makes the damn finally break as fresh, hot tears cascade down his face.

Because it is Hell isn’t it, punishment would mean torture, right?

Oh god… the thought of Frank being hurt only makes Gerard’s chest tighten up even more.  
He wishes he could do something, anything other than sit here and cry alone in his apartment, missing Frank but being completely unable to do anything about it.

There’s a loud crash in the kitchen. 

Gerard startles, eyes growing wide as he hears the loud clatter of multiple things hitting the floor in the other room.

Is it an intruder?

How’d he not hear them come in? He wasn’t crying that hard.

Standing on shaky legs and trying to steady his breathing, Gerard inches into the kitchen.

The light isn’t on but he can see something moving in the shadows. It’s not Frank, Gerard realizes sadly. 

Frank has this sort of glow. It’s really faint but Gerard would be able to see it if it were him in the low light.

“Who’s there?” Gerard demands, surprised by how strong his voice sounds.

Definitely stronger than he feels.

Whoever’s in the kitchen groans, the sound soft and pain filled. 

Confused now, Gerard steps inside the kitchen just enough to flip on the switch.

When the lights come on, he’s met with every pot and pan he owns scattered about the floor. There’s a person lying in the middle, half buried under the mess. A person with long, black hair and covered in tattoos and-

“Frank?!” Gerard shouts, rushing over instantly and dropping to his knees.

“Heya Gee.”

He smiles brightly, eyes full of relief, and lets him help him up. There’s a nasty red mark on his head, likely from when the pans fell, and his clothes are burned badly. Gerard can smell the odd stench of burned skin and clothing. It makes him nauseous but it’s with a sort of morbid fascination that he’s able to take in Frank’s state. His exposed skin is a harsh, dark shade of red and peeling, like a bad sunburn that’s a few days old.

Frank leans against Gerard, his head lolling to his shoulder as he holds him against his chest. 

“Frankie?” Gerard asks softly, his voice raising a bit in pitch and betraying his concern.

He’s never seen Frank hurt before. Being a demon does have some benefits and Gerard had learned early on that Frank was a lot tougher than he looked. He’s able to heal others as well as himself. Gerard had discovered the former after he’d sliced his palm with a knife while trying to do dishes one evening.

Frank’s powers, while given to him by the Devil, weren’t inherently evil.

“I’m okay…” Frank whispers, his voice shaky.

Though he seems to be mostly okay, if you forget the burned skin. His eyes are bright and he’s got this dumb look on his face. It’s the love sick look that Frank gets sometimes, in moments like this where it’s just them and their voices. 

As much as Gerard would like to just sink into this moment, to pick Frank up bridal style and carry him into the living room, to curl up to him and steal his warmth as they watch Netflix… as much as Gerard wishes he could do that, something is very clearly wrong. 

“What- what happened to you? I thought the fire down there didn’t burn you?”

As far as Gerard knows, Frank is fireproof. Quite literally.

“It doesn’t,” Frank replies cryptically. 

“Then what-”  
“I Fell.”

“Seriously? You’re using the “I fell down the stairs” bit?!”  
Gerard doesn’t mean to raise his voice but it’s just so clear that Frank did not just fall down. The burns covering his skin look painful and the mark on his head is already swelling to a good sized bump.  
Something is wrong and Frank isn’t telling him.

“No. No I literally Fell, Gee,” he repeats quietly, something sad catching on his words and making them hit a little differently.

“Fell? I- I don’t-?”  
“You know like how angels can Fall?”

“Yeah…” Gerard agrees slowly. “They Fall when they turn evil or something.”  
“Not- not quite that. They Fall when they break the rules. But- but not all the rules are… they’re not all right.”  
“Okay but Frankie, you’re a demon so why are we talking about angels?”

“ ‘cause demons can Fall too.”

“Oh.”

Shit.

The world shifts, Frank’s words and his condition suddenly making much more sense. Gerard knows the very basics about Falls, he’d asked Frank about it soon after realizing that angels and demons were very much real.

Even so, Gerard has only heard of Falling as this horrible thing, as something that makes an angel- or apparently a demon too- a disgrace. They’re turned human, they lose all of their powers and that’s only if the Fall doesn’t kill them.

Suddenly terrified as he realizes that Frank’s trying to tell him that he Fell, Gerard finds his words again quickly.

“I-I don’t- Frank- how? How did you Fall? What happened?”  
“You,” he replies quietly, unable to even look at Gerard.

“Me? You… you Fell, for me?”

“Yeah. They- they wanted me to choose and so, I chose you,” Frank admits hoarsely, shifting out of his embrace enough to hold Gerard’s hands. 

But something's off.

Gerard’s used to Frank’s constant heat. He’s like a furnace and it’s really useful on cold days. Snuggling up to him on chilly winter nights is one of Gerard’s favorite things. He always feels so warm, so safe in Frank’s arms.

But right now, Frank’s hands are ice. They’re freezing.

He remembers what he learned about Fallen angels.

“You lost your powers… for me?”

“Yeah. I- I’m human now… we can be together without me ever having to leave again. If- if you want me still...”

The way Frank says that, his voice so filled with hesitance and fear, like Gerard only loved him for his powers, it’s enough to break his heart. He swears it shatters like glass against the cool tile of his kitchen floor.

“Shut the fuck up. God you’re an idiot.”

Frank looks at him in confusion, a mix of hurt and uncertainty swirling in his eyes. 

So Gerard kisses him. 

He pours everything he has into it, every ounce of love he feels so that maybe, maybe Frank will fucking open his eyes and see how much Gerard loves him.

“You-you’re not mad?” he asks quietly once the kiss is over.

“No. I’m- I can’t believe you had to choose. That you’d give up so much of yourself for me, but I’m- I’m not mad. If anything, I’m kinda proud.”  
“Proud?” 

“Yeah. I mean you stood up to the fucking Devil himself and broke the rules. So yeah, I’m so proud of you Frankie.”

He doesn’t add how hard it must have been to literally Fall. Gerard’s certain Frank’s injuries are from that act, the force of his powers burning out and making him human. The strength it must have taken...  
Gerard wraps his arms around him a little tighter in an attempt to get some warmth back into Frank’s freezing body. He can feel Frank shivering from the cold, can hear his teeth clattering together.  
“C’mon. Let’s get you in a bath,” he says, pulling Frank up.

“Wait- uh… first- can I- can I ask you something?”

Gerard pauses by the door with an easy nod.

Frank looks down at his feet as he rummages around in his pants pocket for something. His tongue is stuck out a little and he’s mumbling something under his breath as he searches. Gerard notices how his hands are trembling as he pulls something from his pocket. It’s small and black, a box of some kind maybe?

“Uh… Gee- Gerard would you… would you marry me?”

Gerard stops breathing, his mouth dropping open and his hands rushing to cover his face. Tears prickle at his eyes again but this time they’re good. This time he doesn’t fight them. He crosses the room in two steps the moment Frank’s face falls, clearly misinterpreting his reaction.  
“Frankie, baby look at me,” Gerard pleads softly, cupping his palm against Frank’s cheek gently.  
He looks up hesitantly, his soft green eyes meeting Gerard’s.

“I-I did it wrong didn’t I? There wasn’t much in the books on how to ask but I knew- I knew that it was a big thing and- and that you do it when you commit to each other. And the book said that I needed a ring but everything else was fuckin’- overly vague and I’m sorry if i did it wrong and-”

“Frank, Frankie you did it perfectly.”

They stare into each other for a long moment and Gerard swears he can see the emotions fighting just behind Frank’s eyes.

“But-”  
“No buts. I- just- god Frankie I love you so fucking much!” he punctuates this with a kiss, bringing Frank even closer and practically devouring him.

They break apart soon after, Frank’s breaths coming in short pants from the exertion.

“Yes,” Gerard repeats, grinning wildly down at Frank.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

God, as if he would ever fucking say no!

Gerard lets him slip the cool, metal band on his ring finger, in awe of the way it fits so perfectly. Entranced by the way it seems to shine against the pale skin of his finger.

Frank giggles, soft and high like a little kid. It makes Gerard’s heart melt, the pure relief and happiness that’s encompassing Frank right now. He looks so… perfect. So beautiful in the fluorescent lighting of the kitchen, with pots and pans scattered about at his feet. 

With the singed and burned clothing clinging to his red, peeling skin.

The light and pure fucking joy in his eyes as Gerard wraps an arm around him to lead them into the bathroom. With the goofy grin on both of their faces as Gerard eases him down into the warm water. He’s poured his favorite oils in here, hoping that they’ll soothe Frank’s burned skin.

He sighs as he leans against the back of the tub, eyes flickering shut as the warm water melts the stress from his bones. Gerard watches happily from the side of the bath, turning off the tap and reaching for the shampoo. 

The suds smell of lavender.

The calming scent fills the steamed bathroom as Gerard works the suds into Frank’s hair. He hums gently as he works, letting the pads of his fingers massage against Frank’s head.

After that, Gerard lets Frank relax. He doesn’t try to talk to him, knows that he’ll probably be shit at keeping a conversation right now anyway. So Gerard studies the way the small engagement ring feels against his skin.

It fits perfectly, the colors bright and… god it’s beautiful and just looking at it is enough to bring fresh tears to his eyes.

He looks down at Frank, finding him completely relaxed. His eyes are closed, his breathing slow and relaxed. The burns are a little less red now, the stress lines fading a bit from his brow.

Somehow he is the most beautiful person Gerard has ever seen.

_________________________________________

They got married in the spring.

It was... beautiful.

Truthfully, it's the happiest day of Frank’s life, second only to the day he met Gerard.

There were flowers of every color imaginable, arranged carefully around the small dock where the ceremony had taken place. The waves crashing below them acted as music, the salt in the air as a reminder of how far they’ve come.  
And Gerard?  
God… Frank had never seen anyone, anything as beautiful or as stunning as Gerard looked that day.

He’d worn the most beautiful wedding dress Frank has ever seen, though he’s not seen very many. It had these huge, intricate ruffles down the front with crisscrossing straps on the back. There was lace everywhere and Gerard had worn his hair down, the dark curls brushed for once and they had framed his face like nothing Frank had ever seen before.  
To say it was like a dream would have been an understatement.  
They sealed it with a kiss and the waves had seemed to crash in time with them as the small crowd cheered for them.

“Whatcha lookin’ at Frankie?” Gerard asks curiously, leaning over Frank’s shoulder to peer down at the scrapbook held carefully in his hands.

“Our wedding.”

Gerard hums happily, wrapping his arms around Frank’s shoulders and kissing the exposed skin of his collar bones. 

He smells something sweet, familiar but not quite strong enough for him to single out.

“I made some Halloween cookies, they’re almost cool if you want some,” Gerard says, apparently reading his mind.  
Frank’s always like a bloodhound with sweets. It’s something he still cannot believe that humans invented. Like who looked at one of those sugar plants and thought to mix it with grass and all this other inedible stuff to make cookies?!

He’ll never understand the thought process that must have gone into that decision but he’s grateful for it anyway.

So he twists to kiss Gerard, enjoying the little surprised sound that the action earns him. Frank can taste the sweetness of the cookies on his tongue, can feel his smile against his lips as they break apart.

He closes the scrapbook and carefully replaces it in the cubby under the coffee table that acts as it’s home. 

Following Gerard into the kitchen, Frank feels his mouth start to water at the absolutely heavenly smell that’s filling the room.

There’s already a plate set aside for him, little pumpkin shaped cookies arranged in a smiley face. A glass of milk sets beside it.

“God I fuckin’ love you,” he says, unable to resist pulling Gerard in for another kiss.

Only Gerard would do something so stupid and romantic… something so simple but also enough to make Frank feel like he’s going to die if he doesn’t have his mouth on Gerard's right this instant.

They end up against the wall, kissing fervently as the cookies are all but forgotten. But they’re not. 

All the effort Gerard must have put into making them, the time and the love he dedicated to do this simple display.

God. How in the hell did Frank ever live without this? Without him?

Gerard moans when Frank moves to kiss along his jawline, his eyes lidded and lips slick with spit.

He looks obscene and Frank hasn’t even done anything to him yet.

“Frank,” Gerard says, breathless and only spurring him on. And yet Frank misses the intended meaning, doesn’t notice how Gerard’s steadily draining of color, how he’s trembling for all the wrong reasons.

Just as Frank moves to try and rid his husband of the hoodie he’s wearing, he finds Gerard’s hands pressing against his own to stop him.

“Stop… Frankie.” 

Gerard’s eyes flutter and Frank barely is able to catch him as his legs give out.

“Gee? Gerard, what’s wrong!” he begs desperately, only growing more worried as Gerard goes fully limp in his arms.

His heart racing for an entirely different reason now, Frank struggles to support Gerard’s weight. It’s not that he’s heavy necessarily but Frank is short and he’s not exactly gifted with upper body strength.

But then Gerard is blinking, the confusion slowly beginning to clear from his eyes as he moves to stand on his own. Frank lets go cautiously, afraid that Gerard’s just gonna fucking faint again the second he’s not supporting him. 

That doesn’t happen, thankfully. Gerard does lean against the wall with one hand resting over his heart as he tries to catch his breath.

Neither of them speak for a long moment, too shocked to begin to try and figure out what happened.

“Gee?” Frank asks at last, stepping closer to wrap his arms around Gerard’s waist. 

This seems to bring Gerard out of the last of it, the hints of his normal color beginning to come back to his face. But he still looks too pale, too confused. 

Frank’s heart jackhammers in his check, fear and concern colliding, exploding together in his mind. It’s hard to think, to even move, because what the actual fucking hell just happened?  
People don’t just do that. Right?

God Frank honestly has no clue. It’s been years but he’s still finding things every day that he’s completely lost on. This seems like a very important thing that, if it were normal, Gerard would have told him about.

Because Gerard just fucking fainted for no reason and he looks like he could still do it again any second. And Frank doesn’t know what to do!

“Are you okay?” he tries, carefully watching Gerard’s expression for… something.

He doesn’t know what he’s expecting. But Frank can see the exhaustion in his eyes, in the way the color doesn’t seem as bright as it was just a moment ago. He can see the color slowly returning to Gerard’s skin though. 

It’s more noticeable now, as the pink, pale tone slowly replaces the sick grey color of Gerard’s face.

“I- I-” Gerard stutters out, his eyes still just a little wide as he takes a shaky breath. “What was that?”

“I don’t know.”

But like Frank said, he’s still so new to being human. There's a lot that he’s unclear on and he’d been hoping that Gerard knew what was wrong. Seeing him just as confused and scared as he is though? That makes this even worse.

“Do you wanna sit down for a bit? Frank offers gently, rubbing soothing circles on Gerard’s skin.  
He’s trembling under Frank’s hand, eyes still so scared and confused. Frank wants to fix it, to hold him and chase away that fear in his eyes.

“I think- I think I’m gonna lie down for a bit…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I've never written a wedding before. That was weird, but like in a good way?? I dunno.   
I was sitting there trying to think of what it'd like my wedding to be and welp there we have it.  
Apparently I want an ocean wedding.  
Typical. Considering I hate sand and can't swim.  
Anyway!  
I hope you all enjoyed! Tell me what you think?


	29. Photograph Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
*lots of cursing  
*fainting/illness  
*talk of needles  
*aftermath of torture (like it happened years ago and it's mentioned but doesn't go into detail)  
*blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
Second part of demon/human request! It turned out to be 48 pages including both chapters so if you couldn't tell, I like this world a lot! It was interesting and I may have to explore it more in another thing later on.  
But yeah, a huge freaking thank you to @pauladiazcruz for helping me Endlessly with this one. I basically binge wrote it over the past two days and she was practically binge editing it at times. So yeah, she's great and this probably wouldn't be near as good or fun if it weren't for her!!  
-edit- somehow the second half of this didnt copy in. I fixed it, sorry for any confusion!-
> 
> *Chapter title is from Bulletproof Heart by My Chem. First time I've not tried to name the song "gravity" whenever I'm giving it credit. For some reason I always think that that's the name of it. But it's not and I screw it up Constantly!*

It happens again the next day.

They’re just sitting on the couch, watching TV and enjoying a quiet evening in.

Frank had wanted to take Gerard to the doctor, the ER or something. People don’t just faint for no reason.

But Gerard had woken from his nap and insisted that he felt fine. He explained it away with too much stress from work and too little exercise. 

Frank, not falling for it, begged Gerard to call into work today. If it really was just stress that caused the spell last night, he wants Gerard to take it easy.

Seeing him like that and being so unable to help, to do anything, was horrible. If Frank still had his powers then he’d been able to fix whatever was wrong instantly. A quick press of healing energy and he’d be fine.

As is though, a part of Frank knows that something is wrong.  
He gets bits of it sometimes, hints of his old powers.

He’ll sense something before it happens, like a snow storm that’s worse than predicted or a crash on their normal commute.

Even so, he misses how over the last hour Gerard’s gone more and more pale. How he no longer responds to Frank’s commentary on the show they’re watching. 

Frank assumes it’s just because Gerard’s actually paying attention to the documentary and doesn’t want him interrupting. So he stays quiet.

He doesn’t notice how Gerard’s not paying attention to the show at all.

He does, however, notice when his husband whispers his name.  
It’s soft, barely even there, but there’s something in the way that Gerard says it that has Frank turning to look at him.

Gerard’s slumped in the seat, his head lulling back and his eyes fluttering. Instantly Frank recognizes that same confused look in his eyes from before, the way that Gerard just seems to be… not here.

Fighting back the worry, Frank reaches over to him. Gerard doesn’t fight him as he carefully positions him on his side, long ways on the couch. With his head on Frank’s lap, he’s able to feel the chill sitting in Gerard’s bones. He’s able to tell how slow, shallow his breathing is right now.  
And it’s absolutely fucking terrifying.

“Gee?” 

There’s no response, no fluttering eyes, no groan. Just nothing.

He’s actually passed out this time.

Frank runs his fingers over the cool skin of Gerard’s forehead and tries to think of what to do.

Freaking out, as much as he wants to right now, will only make things worse.

He needs to figure out what’s wrong with Gerard.

With his years as a human, Frank’s learned very basic first aid. He knows how to put a band-aid on a scrape and that a simple allergy pill will help in the spring when Gerard starts sneezing. Frank watched Gerard wrap his ankle when he had twisted it on the walk they were taking that day.

And he’s seen Gerard faint before.

Maybe not like this, so sudden and unexplainable. But a nasty strain of flu had been going around last year and Gerard’s job had insisted that everyone of their employees get vaccinated.

Gerard had dragged Frank with him, though Frank didn’t mind going. He’d held on so tightly to his hand, burying his head in Frank’s neck until it was over. But he’d looked up too soon and saw the nurse disposing of the needle. 

He’d fainted right then and there, scaring the shit out of Frank and the other nurse who was still in training.

Frank tries to remember what the nurses did to help Gerard that day. They’d checked him over, taking his pulse and doing something with his finger and this little machine to see if he had enough oxygen in his blood.

But Frank doesn’t know how to check for a pulse, other than something about a person’s neck?

He tries it anyway, pressing two fingers like he saw the nurse do against Gerard’s neck. It’s weird, feeling the skin sorta squish in as he presses but he doesn’t feel anything.

Repositioning, he tries it again. This time Frank can feel a slow thump under his fingertips. 

But he’s not sure what’s considered normal. Fainting is a bit like sleeping and he knows that human’s body’s slow down when they’re asleep.

Frank doesn’t know what else to do though.

The thing that the nurse used is something he’s almost positive isn’t in their little first-aid kit in the bathroom. So he has no idea if Gerard’s getting enough oxygen or whatever.

Fuck.

Taking a steadying breath, Frank tries to remember what else the nurse did. 

Not much really. Right after she did the thing with Gerard’s finger, he’d woken back up.

After that they had him rest for a bit and then he and Frank had gone home. 

He glances back down at Gerard, watching for any signs that he’s going to wake up soon. 

Gerard’s eyes are closed, though not tightly so. He looks like he’s just sleeping, face relaxed and breathing slow.

The panic begins to resurface now. 

Because Gerard is lying here fucking unconcious and there is absolutely nothing that Frank can do! 

He feels that tightness begin to gain ground in his chest, each breath proving harder than the last. Frank doesn’t want to freak out, knows it won’t do him any good but there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

His breath hitches, the first hot, frustrated, scared, tears beginning to fall. And he hates it. Frank fights it as the hopelessness, the fear, washes over him in waves. He doesn’t know what to do. 

Gerard is normally the one to help him in situations like this. He’s always there for him, guiding him, comforting him. But right now, Frank is utterly, completely alone.  
And Gerard is the one who needs help. 

Frank shutters, holding onto Gerard as tightly as he dares, praying to anything, anyone that he’s over reacting.

Because he’ll take the embarrassment of having a panic attack for nothing, over the possibility that Gerard’s hurt or- or worse.

If he only had his fucking powers. He’d be able to fix this, within seconds Gerard would be awake and fine. Not unconscious and pale and way too fucking cold for the blankets that are still wrapped around him.

A soft hand touches the side of his face. The touch is gentle, cool almost. He looks down to Gerard, not really knowing what he was expecting.

But he’s awake.

Gerard is awake and the same confusion, the same haziness in his eyes as before is already fading. He’s still far too pale, looking barely conscious. But fuck- Frank is going to take it.  
“What’s wrong?” Gerard’s voice comes out in a whisper and his hand begins to slip from Frank’s face as if holding it there is too much right now.

Frank cups Gerard’s hand with his own, leaning into the touch and squeezing his eyes shut. A few more tears escape and he’s not sure if it’s relief or residual panic that he feels. All he knows is that Gerard is awake and that’s honestly the most important thing right now.

“Frank,” Gerard says again, his voice still strained, though it’s slowly growing in strength. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“You- you passed out again. We were watching TV and-and you said my name and just fuckin’- you just-”

Frank can’t continue, can’t get the image out of his mind. It’s terrifying because Gerard looks just as confused as he is, maybe even more so.

“I- I remember watching TV,” he begins softly and Frank begins to run his fingers through Gerard’s hair as he thinks. “I got really tired, lightheaded and- and that’s all I remember.”

“It’s okay,” Frank tells him with more confidence than he’s feeling. “We’ll figure it out.”  
___________________________________

And so they set up a doctor’s appointment.

They go, hand in hand into the small examination room. Gerard shakes like a leaf, nerves and fear making him near mute when the doctor starts asking questions.  
So, Frank fills the doctor in.

He tells her about how Gerard has fainted twice now in the past few days. How he gets confused and pale, unresponsive until whatever it is passes.

The doctor asks them about Gerard’s eating habits, for some reason.

Frank doesn’t understand why but he tells the woman that they eat pretty normally. Pizza and fast food are a guilty pleasure but Gerard makes an effort to cook them real food as often as he can.

But the doctor seems to come to a conclusion rather quickly. She nods, writing something down on her notepad and telling them to wait a moment as she steps outside the room.

Instantly Frank is climbing in the uncomfortable examination chair and letting Gerard practically wrap himself around him.

Needless to say, Gerard hates hospitals almost as much as he hates needles. But Frank wouldn’t have dragged him here if it wasn’t important. 

“Okay,” the doctor says as she comes back into the room. “So I think I know what’s goin’ on with you Mr. Way.”  
Gerard says nothing and so Frank makes eye contact with her and nods for her to continue.

“Low iron. You’re making the right lee-way with eating right but you’re still missing some key nutrients. Mainly iron. That’s what’s likely causing these fainting spells.”

“And how do we fix that?” Frank demands, sitting up on the edge of the seat a bit.

“Well, at first I want you to try and incorporate more iron rich foods into your diet. I have a pamphlet that lists most of the common foods that contain the nutrient. Then, I recommend you come back for a follow up in a month so we can re-evaluate things.”  
She reaches over, handing a crisp, colorful pamphlet to Frank. Gerard thanks her quietly and Frank can’t help but feel a little proud at the bravery that must’ve taken him.

“And just eating better will fix all of this?” he asks a little disbelievingly.

“It should. If not then there might be a problem with how he’s processing nutrients and Gerard may just have to go on supplements.”

“Supplements?” Frank questions.

“Vitamins basically. Just to give him a more concentrated dose of what he’s missing.”

And so they go home, pamphlet in hand. 

Frank insists on cooking dinner that night, if only to let Gerard rest for a little while. Doctors are stressful for him on normal occasions so who knows how hard this particular visit was for him.

So, Frank glides around the kitchen, grabbing the things he needs and double checking to have at least three of the suggested foods in his list of supplies. He’s been getting better at cooking, another human thing that he never thought twice about.  
It’s harder than it looks, okay?  
He’s burned many pieces of toast, boiled multiple pots dry, even caught the oven on fire one time.

But Gerard was always there to help him. To teach him and critique his attempts at cooking. Over time, Frank has learned enough to at least follow a recipe. He can make boxed foods as well but is that even really cooking?  
Gerard naps as Frank cooks. He can hear the TV playing quietly in the living room but he’d gone in a little while ago to see what he was watching, only to find Gerard sprawled out on the couch. It was honestly adorable and so Frank simply made sure he was covered in a blanket, before retreating back to the kitchen.

Dinner is done fairly quickly and Frank takes the time to set the table before waking Gerard. He needs to rest, according to the pamphlet at least. Iron deficiency can make people tired, lethargic, moody. 

Who’d have guessed?  
Having it all explained away as something so simple is… well it’s both like a sigh of relief and bated breath to be proven wrong. He’s relieved, god Frank is more than relieved that Gerard is okay and that this is a normal thing. Maybe not common but other humans experience it and so there’s things they can do to help him.

But then there’s that fear creeping up from the corner, yelling, screaming that this isn’t it. There’s something else wrong.  
Frank chalks it up to anxiety, it’s all he can do. Because if he were to dwell on it, to think too hard about the chances of this being something else, he’ll surely drown in it.

So, he focuses on what he can do.

Having dinner with Gerard.

After double checking that everything is in place, Frank heads back into the living room to wake his husband. Gerard is still spread out on the couch, sleeping peacefully. He almost doesn’t want to wake him but not eating would make things worse according to the pamphlet.

Frank leans over and shakes Gerard’s shoulder, smiling a little as he bats his hand away and grumbles. Even at 5 in the evening, Gerard’s never been too fond of being woken up.

“Come on Gee. Dinner’s ready.”

This earns him a single eye opening to judge him curiously. There’s a scowl on Gerard’s face but Frank knows it’s nothing personal.

“Coffee?” he grumbles, voice thick with sleep.

“Of course.”

He watches fondly as Gerard stretches and yawns. After he’s a little more awake, Gerard smiles warmly at him, leaning up on his elbows to place a quick kiss on Frank’s lips.  
“You cooked dinner?” he asks as he stands and follows Frank into the kitchen.

“Mmhm. Followed the pamphlet and everything.”

Gerard stops in front of the table, eyes misty as he takes in Frank’s display. So he went a little overboard and lit a few candles. Okay, it was like every candle they own but who’s counting? The plates were organized as neatly as he could and he’s got a surprise in the oven as well.

Gerard’s eyes seem to dance in the candle light, his smile watery but sincere as he pulls Frank over by the hand. He wraps his arms around Frank’s waist and kisses him deeply. The moment feels impossibly soft, perfect.

“Shall we?” Frank asks dramatically, stepping quickly back and holding Gerard’s hands at arms length.  
He saw this once in a movie, right before the prince helped the princess into her chair at the table. Frank knows it was fake, only a movie, but if the blush that rises on Gerard’s cheeks is anything to go by, he’s doing a good job.

They eat quietly, content in just the warm presence of each other. The food is… well it’s good by Frank’s standards but he never actually had to eat before he Fell so he’s rather new at this. But Gerard certainly looks happy as he munches on some of his veggies. Their hands are intertwined in the small space between them and Frank absently runs over the smooth skin of Gerard’s hand with the pad of his thumb.  
His hands are cold, like they have always seemed to be for the past few days, but they get warmer as dinner progresses. So Frank doesn’t worry.

The oven beeps, startling Frank out of his thoughts and making Gerard jump as well.

“What’s that for?” Gerard asks, barely stifling a laugh at the smear of potatoes that’s now on Frank’s shirt.

“A surprise.”

Wiping the mashed mess off his shirt the best he can, Frank stands and goes over to the oven. The second he takes the cookies out, Gerard’s eyes get wide. 

“You made cookies?” he asks breathlessly, moving to stand beside Frank as he puts them on a cooling rack like he’s seen Gerard do many times.

“We didn’t get to eat the other ones so… I figured why not, ya know?”

They both end up eating way too many cookies, tangled up together on the couch. It’s a quiet, peaceful evening. Frank almost, almost lets his anxieties waver.

Gerard is fine. He’s laughing and singing along animatedly with the Disney movie they’re watching. There’s nowhere else Frank would rather be.

Not while he has this. Not when all he has to do is look over to see the most beautiful person he’s ever seen unashamedly quoting a children’s movie. Gerard has cookie crumbles all down his pajamas but so does Frank. And he may not know all the words yet or completely understand the plot, but Frank enjoys the movie as much as Gerard does. 

________________________________

Two days.  
Two fucking days of thinking that this was over, that the doctor was right and Gerard was fine.

Frank had allowed himself to believe that, to trust in the healthier meals and mild rest like they were told. Everything is fine, normal almost, until the morning Gerard has to go back to work.

He’s used his sick day to get a long weekend but now Gerard has to get back to work before he gets in trouble. And Frank understands, he’s been in much the same position many times before when he was a demon.

That doesn’t mean he’s not going to miss him though.

Frank sits on the edge of their bed, still in the clothes he slept in, as he watches Gerard get ready. It’s always a bit of a shock when Gerard puts on his work clothes.

Not that he’s not the single most attractive thing Frank has ever seen in his many, many years of life when he’s lying on the couch with messy hair and three day old sweatpants and a t-shirt. No. It’s not that Gerard is ever actually unattractive- at least not to Frank.

But there’s something about the way he looks in a crisp, dark button down and dress pants. The way his hair lays when he simply puts a few drops of product in his hand and runs his fingers through the dark strands. It’s in the smear of eyeliner he carefully applies, his mouth falling open as he concentrates in the mirror.

Frank wishes he could go to school with him, watch him teach. He knows Gerard’s smart, way smarter than he admits or even knows, but seeing it in passing isn’t the same as watching him helping a room full of kids learn something.

“Would it be cheesy to say I don’t want you to go?”  
He tries to keep his voice casual, teasing, but the fear comes through as well. He’s certain Gerard heard it.

“Nah. I wish I could stay but I’m feeling better now. ‘Sides,” Gerard flashes him a brief smile through the mirror. “We have a bunch ‘a tests coming up and I wanna make sure my kids are ready, ya know? I mean they’re smart, really smart, but I don’t want them to be surprised by anything that’s on the test.”  
Frank nods along, noticing how Gerard’s already continuing.

“And Mr. Davenport, the asshole I told you about who stole all of my markers?” Frank nods, smiling a little as Gerard waves the stick of eyeliner around a bit. “Well he said that his 10th grade English could do better than my class! So, iron deficiency or not, I’m not about to fuckin’ loose.”

Frank laughs, falling back onto the bed to stare up at the ceiling. He finds himself rubbing the little round studs that are hidden in his hairline. Even though his horns weren’t big, weren’t old and proud like Ray’s, he still misses them. It’s a weird thing to miss but he can’t help but wonder how big they might be by now.

They were still growing from the last time he’d lost them so his horns might have been back to their original size by now. He almost wishes they’d grow back, that he’d be able to look in the mirror and see proof that all those years, all those centuries, weren’t some fever dream.

Because somehow his time with Gerard feels longer. He’s known him four years, been married to him less than three, and yet it feels like hundreds of years have passed. All Frank thinks of now is being human. It’s falling naturally in place, like he was made to eat cookies on the couch and watch Disney movies with Gerard. Like his entire life before this was just one large breath, one pause before events were set in motion and he met Gerard.

Something thuds in the bathroom and Frank rolls his eyes fondly. Gerard dropping things isn’t that big of a surprise, its’ normal really.

But, as Frank pauses in his thoughts to hear Gerard’s muffled cursing as he bends over to pick up whatever it is that he dropped… it doesn’t come. There’s no sound.

No dramatic sigh or a threat on Frank’s life for laughing at him. 

Nothing.

Frank frowns, sitting up. Gerard’s no longer in the mirror but he could just be grabbing something else, just out of view.  
“Gee? What’d you drop baby?”

No response.  
Then Frank looks down. 

All he can see are Gerard’s feet but he’s not standing up. A sinking feeling in his gut takes his breath away as Frank slowly stands and goes into the bathroom.

Gerard is lying on his side on the cold tile of the bathroom. He looks like he simply dropped, like a rag doll being let go.

“Gee?” Frank all but shouts, sliding down onto the hard floor next to his husband.

He puts a hand on Gerard’s shoulder, shaking gently. But there’s no response.

Quickly beginning to panic again, Frank rolls him over. 

Gerard’s pale, even more so than before and there’s a large, bleeding gash on his forehead right above his brow. His skin is cold to the touch as Frank tries to wipe the hair from his face. With shaking hands, he rolls up some toilet paper and presses it against the wound.  
Gerard doesn’t stir and Frank can’t even tell if he’s fucking breathing.

“No. Gee. C’mon, wake up,” he pleads, maneuvering Gerard so his head rests on his thigh.

Eventually the bleeding stops, though he does go through a whole roll of toilet paper in the process. So Frank fumbles through taking a washcloth and wiping the dried blood away. He dabs it dry as carefully as he can, looking for any sign of pain on Gerard’s relaxed face. One of the medium sized band-aids goes over the wound easily and Frank kisses the pads of his fingers before gently pressing them over the dressing. It’s something Gerard always does when Frank’s hurt and it’s childish and dumb but- but Frank hopes that it’ll bring that same fuzzy feeling to Gerard as it does to him. 

The panic has faded, oddly enough.

He’s still intensely worried, especially as Gerard doesn’t seem to be waking up and it’s been an hour by this point. But it’s working differently now, like Frank’s in survival mode or something.  
Calmly, carefully, he lifts Gerard bridal style and carries him out of the bathroom. Once he’s situated and safe under the covers of their bed, Frank gets to work.  
He knows what he has to do now.

He should have listened to his gut, should have known that this wasn’t normal.

Because he’s seen this before.

It’s no secret that demons hate humans. They consider them the bane of Existence itself, the biggest cosmic fuck up.

And that hate has spurred on eons of new and exciting, painful and horrible ways for them to make humans as miserable as possible. Sicknesses, diseases and the like, that’s not something God had planned.

No, it was crafted in the darkest reaches of Hell by demons who were sick of the humans getting God’s favor.

Frank knows this well, he’s fucking helped spread these diseases back before he met Gerard. It’s not something he’s proud of but he’s slowly making peace with it.

But worse than the sickness that the other demons seemed to enjoy so much, were the curses.

They’re hard, not an everyday- or even an every century- sort of thing. But whenever a demon had a particular human they wanted to watch suffer, curses were the go to.  
And they’re horrible things, even the mild ones. They vary from demon to demon but Frank recognizes the symptoms now, he knows why he had such a bad feeling about this.

There’s only one demon in Hell who hates Frank enough to do this. Only one strong enough to do this. 

Frank may have lost his horns in that fight but he hadn’t gone down easily. 

The thought alone brings a cruel sort of smile to his face, memories of the blood pooling at his feet after he’d taken the other demon’s eye.

But that means there’s only one thing that he can do.

Without his powers Frank is… he’s basically fucking useless.

He can’t heal Gerard, can’t drive the curse away like he would so easily be able to do if he had them. Okay, maybe it wouldn’t be easy but it’d be fucking possible and that’s all that matters.

As is though, Frank resolves himself to what has to be done.  
It’s risky, sure to get him fucking killed, but it’s the only choice he has if he wants to see Gerard healthy again.

He takes a deep breath, summoning whatever echoes may be left of his powers. Closing his eyes, Frank concentrates hard on the one demon he hopes still remembers him.

‘Ray. Ray c’mon man, I know you can hear me. Please…’

Frank doesn’t speak aloud, communicating like this is more like a- like a prayer than anything else. But Ray should be able to hear him. 

Though, the longer the pause draws out, Frank isn’t so sure.

‘Please Ray I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t fucking important!’ he projects as loudly as he can.

But Ray doesn’t answer.

Suddenly crushed by the weight of everything, smothered by the pale and worn face of his husband lying in front of him, Frank collapses to his knees. He wants to scream, needing to get rid of this horrible crashing weight that’s over him.

Because Gerard is dying, he’s going to fucking die if they don’t reverse this. Soon.

And that’s just something that Frank never thought he’d have to think about. Not like this, not this soon.

Sure, far off in the future when they’re both old and have lived their lives together, happy and content to face whatever lies beyond.  
But like this? 

With him wasting away just because Frank picked a fight with someone older than him and they held a grudge?! Or is it because he’s finally fucking happy?

‘I shouldn’t be talking to you.’

Frank almost jumps out of his skin at the sudden voice in his head. But it’s familiar, nostalgic, a literal answered prayer.

‘Ray- thank fucking God.”

‘What do you want, Frank?’

He stutters, shocked by the cold tone of his best friend. Frank had thought Ray would be happy to hear from him, lord fucking knows that Frank’s more than happy to hear his voice.

‘I-’

‘Spit it out Frank or I’m leaving,’ Ray’s voice snaps.

‘It’s Gee..’

‘The human you Fell for? Why the fuck should I care?’

‘Ray- what’s- what’s goin on? You- I thought you’d- you’re my best friend.’

‘Was. I was your best friend. And then you chose a human over me. So, again, why the fuck should I care?’

‘He’s dying Ray. I- you know the guy I fought last, the one who took my horns?’

There’s a long pause and when Ray answers there’s something off in his tone.

‘What about him?’

Ray’s tone isn’t as cold as before, if anything it’s almost- almost what it used to be.

‘He’s cursed Gerard. He’s dying Ray and I don’t fucking know what to do! He’s all I have-’

‘You had me. You had friends and a job, powers. A life. You chose to give that up.’

‘Please Ray. I-I can’t live without him…’

‘I don’t know what you want me to do about it,’ Ray snaps, his voice devoid of emotion once again.

‘Gerard doesn’t deserve to die. He’s done nothing fucking wrong Ray! He fainted for the first time while making me cookies. Cookies, Ray. And then he almost fucking cried when this dog died in a cartoon we were watching last night. He teaches high school and I’ve seen him giving kids lunch money when they were going to go hungry!’ Frank’s breathing heavily, something between desperation and anger igniting in his veins. ‘Please. Ray just heal him. That’s all I ask. I’ll never talk to you again, never bother you, but please. If not for me, if not for our friendship, for Gerard. Because he doesn’t deserve to suffer like this.’

Ray is quiet for a long while, long enough for Frank to get the message.

He’s not going to help. And really, why would he?

Frank abandoned him, his oldest friend. They’d been through everything together, every fight, every punishment... everything.

And Frank had simply left.

The lights in the room begin to flicker, growing impossibly bright and then fading out completely. The hair on Frank’s arms stands up, the energy in the air supercharging everything around him.

Just then, as if it combusts, a swirling red and black hole tears through the air in front of Frank. He can feel the heat coming from it, can recognize the energy that’s feeding it.

‘Hurry.’

Ray’s voice is strained and Frank works quickly to gather the pale form of his husband up into his arms. He steps confidently through the portal, praying with everything in him that it’s not too late.

The air grows impossibly hot, burning his lungs as stumbles onto solid ground. His nose stings with the sharp scent of sulfur and brimstone that lays thick in the air. He’s dizzy with the heat.

The room he’s in is familiar though.

A simple bed pushed into the corner, carefully made. There’s a guitar sitting proud in a stand by a window, shining in the light of the room. He can remember many nights spent sitting on that bed, talking and laughing with the only friend that Hell ever gave him.

He coughs a little to expel the burned taste coating his throat as he looks around some more. Save for the heat and the smell, you’d almost think this was earth.

Frank adjusts Gerard in his arms, his back beginning to ache from the strain. He really needs to work out more…

Gerard’s not even that fucking heavy.

Looking around the room, Frank doesn’t spot Ray.

Which is odd because the range on portals is like- non-existent. You come out right next to the person, sometimes on top of them.

So for Ray to not be here is… odd.

“Frank.”

Spinning around, Frank finds Ray.

He’s leaning casually against the closed door, looking much the same as he did the last time they saw each other.  
Maybe a little thinner, his hair slightly more tangled than before and-

Oh. 

Oh no.

Frank gasps, he can’t help it.

Rays horns they- they’re gone.

Who would be fucking strong enough to beat Ray? To take his horns…

Likely noticing Frank’s shocked expression, Ray’s guarded expression falls, exposing the emotion he was so clearly trying to hide.

“You think they let me get away with helping you?” he asks, words sounding like they should come out bitter but they only succeed in being hollow.

Frank can’t tear his eyes away from Ray’s head, can’t begin to process the loss that he must have experienced. For them to still be fucking gone...after all this time.  
Oh god. That’s- that’s even fucking worse.

This happened because of him.

And there’s only one demon who deals punishments as severe as taking someone’s horns… the Devil himself.

“I- fuck Ray. He did that ‘cause you helped me?” he demands, almost hysterical.

“Yeah.”

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Frank tries to think clearly about this.  
“They-they’ll grow back right?”

Ray just shakes his head sadly, his curls bouncing with the motion.

“He knows how to do it differently. It’s- it’s worse-” Frank sucks in a breath, remembering the blinding pain he felt when his were taken. If it’s worse than that-” and they’re gone for good.”  
Ray raises his head, looking at Frank headon.

“And yet the second you ask for a favor… here I am helping you again.”

The weight of Gerard in his arms is making this go too fast. He needs to sit down, to do something to make this right. Because Ray’s right. He has no right to ask this of him.

He’s probably still fucking recovering from the punishment and here Frank is, begging him to work serious magic to save the person who Frank chose over him.

“Lay him down,” Ray prompts, his voice suddenly gentle.

Frank blinks up at him in confusion. Why would he still help them?

“We can talk about it later. You’re right, he doesn’t deserve to die for our sins.”

In a trance, Frank lies Gerard down onto the bed. He’s gotten worse, deathly pale and unbearably cold. He hovers at his side as Ray comes over.

“How long has he been cursed?”

“A few days? He collapsed the other night for the first time and he was fine before that. I think…”

“You think?” Ray asks casually as he presses two fingers on Gerard’s temple, right above the little band-aid.

Frank nods, trying to think back and see if there was a sign that he missed. Something that could have warned him of this before it got this bad.  
But Gerard had been fine up until the other day. It had all gone down so quickly that neither of them had had time to process it really. To even begin to worry about something like this happening.

“Without my powers I can’t pick up on that stuff,” Frank admits, finding the words harder than they should be. “He seemed fine though.”

“Then Bob must have just done this… yeah,” Ray breathes deeply as the room gains a soft red-ish glow as his powers begin to work. “Yeah this is recent.”

The light grows, never getting bright enough to actually hurt but definitely hard to look at. Though, Frank doesn’t look away, can’t bring himself to take his eyes off of Gee for even a second.

“Is- is it too late?” he manages to choke out after a long few minutes of watching Ray stare quietly at Gerard.

“Hold on…”

The silence drags on. 

Each moment feels like an hour and Frank had been certain that it wouldn’t take this long. These curses hit hard and fast but are easily countered by a strong enough demonic energy. So Ray should have this done in no time right?  
It shouldn’t be taking this long.

And now Frank’s certain that something's wrong, that they were too late and Gee’s not gonna make it or-

Finally, finally, just as Frank is fit to burst from all the anxiety storming in his mind, Ray sighs deeply and the red light fades from the room as if it was suctioned out. He can only watch as Ray all but falls down onto the bed beside Gerard, only upright thanks to the wall behind him.

Frank looks desperately between Ray and Gerard, waiting for a sign, for something to tell him if this worked or not.

But Gerard’s still so pale, so unmoving and quiet and-

“He’ll make it,” Ray grunts out, though he’s smiling at Frank knowingly.

He’s always been good at telling what he was thinking.

“Seriously?”

Frank looks back down at Gerard, watches the way he slowly seems to comes back to life. Pink returns to his complexion and Frank is able to watch as his breathing grows stronger, deeper. Gerard sighs softly in his sleep, his head rolling a little towards Frank. He doesn’t wake but after only a few minutes he looks as if he’s merely sleeping rather than at death’s doorstep.

“Let him rest,” Ray continues, running a trembling hand over his face. “It might take a bit for him to come back...I’m not as strong as I was… I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

Something in Frank’s heart breaks at that. Because Ray’s clearly given up so much, suffered so much for Frank, and here he is apologizing. And it feels wrong. Frank is the one who should have apologies pouring from his lips. He’s lucky, stupidly lucky, that Ray is even talking to him right now, let alone saving the life of the husband Frank abandoned him for.

“Are you okay?” he asks instead, moving to sit on the bed at Gerard’s other side.

His hands instantly find his husband’s hair, the familiar motions of running his fingers through the fine strands helping alleviate some of the panic still coursing in his veins.

“Yeah… I’m okay, just gotta catch my breath,” Ray tells him breathily, casually watching Frank play with Gerard’s hair.

“You- you said we’d talk about all of this after and…”

“Frank there’s nothing to talk about. You’re my best friend and-”

“But you said-”  
“I was pissed,” Ray interrupts, his voice more exasperated than angry this time. "Frank do you really think I'd hate you for something like this?"

Frank stays quiet a long moment and when he answers he can't even look at Ray.

"You should."

"No, you idiot. Ya know why? Cause it's not your fucking fault Frank! You ran because you had to, because that was the only way for you to have this," Ray waves to where Frank’s other hand is gently holding Gerard's, something he wasn’t aware that he was even doing. "You weren't the one who made the rules and you sure as Hell were’nt the one who took my fucking horns."

Shocked into silence, Frank can only stare at the demon who used to be his best friend. The person who, apparently, still cares about him even after everything he put him through.

"Have I ever told you that I love you?" Frank asks sincerely, a ghosting of a smile itching on his lips.

Ray laughs and it feels like old times where it’d just be the two of them hiding away in this room, trying to find something worth living for down here.

"Not e-fucking- nough," Ray says warmly. . "Hey, could you grab me something from the fridge downstairs?"

"Yeah, yeah no problem. What’d ya need?"

___________

As Frank leaves, Ray forces himself to take a deep breath.

He’s never really been in a room alone with a human before, never actually wanted to be. And he knows how much this is an attest to Frank’s trust in him, leaving his very ill husband alone with a demon. It’s insane that they’re okay again, so quickly.  
Ray has spent the past few years trying to hate Frank.  
And maybe he convinced himself that he did hate him once or twice. It was never the truth.

Just like he’d told Frank, it wasn’t his fault the rules were what they were.

Ray had chosen to help him escape, willingly fought the guards back to ensure he got far enough.

He was just as responsible as Frank for what happened.  
That’s why when Frank called him today he tried so fucking hard to hate him again. He was furious, angry that he had the balls to call after everything that had happened. But the second he heard the desperation in his voice, the pure panic and fear lacing every syllable he managed to utter in his mind, Ray knew that he didn’t hate Frank.

He doesn’t even hate Gerard.

It’d be easy to say he only did this for his best friend. That’s the right answer, what Ray feels like he should say.

But it’s not true.

Just seeing how much Frank cares about this person, how much this tiny human means to him, it’s opened his eyes a bit. He doesn’t want to be human, he’s not having that much of a change of heart. But he’s aware now that at least some humans aren’t as bad as they’ve always been made out to be.

I mean, if this one human, Gerard, can mean so fucking much to Frank that he’d Fall for him, that he’d risk coming back to Hell, risk calling Ray, just to save his life…

So yeah. Maybe Ray was wrong.

Gerard groans quietly and Ray watches in a state of awe as his eyes slowly flutter open. They’re a bit glazed, confused, but he focuses on Ray easily enough.

“Where-”

His voice is low and rough but Ray can see the underlying panic just beneath. 

“You’re safe. Frank brought you here, he’s just downstairs.”

Gerard nods silently, blinking slowly and coming back to himself as a few more moments pass.

“I’m Ray,” he offers diplomatically, smiling a little for emphasis.

He doesn’t know much about humans, isn’t sure if what he does know is even true, but smiling seems like the safest bet.

“I’m Gerard… I-” Gerard’s face scrunches and he glances around the room a bit, in obvious confusion. “Where am I?”

“Hell. Frank risked a lot to bring you here. You nearly died.”  
“Nearly?” Gerard questions, “so I’m not going to anymore?”

“No. I healed you.”

“You… healed me? You’re a demon?” 

Gerard doesn’t sound suspicious, or even scared. 

“Yeah, I’ve known Frank since we were spawnlings,” Ray tells him honestly.

“Well, Ray. I guess I have a lot to thank you for.”  
“Don’t mention it. I- Frank’s my best friend and… seeing him so happy, so alive, with you is more than worth it.”  
Gerard doesn’t answer him but he does smile softly, eyes bright and grin contagious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed!!  
Tune in tomorrow for something random! Or at least I hope it's random. I'm not quite sure what I'm gonna do yet haha  
<3


	30. That Gave Me Heartache to Sing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
*cursing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 29 holy shit!!!  
I can see the end in sight dudes!  
The biggest thank you to @pauladiazcruz for being so much help today in me deciding to actually post this one. And editing of course cause Lord knows my grammar sucks when I'm trying to write faster than I can type. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!  
*Chapter title from the lyric in Disenchanted that hurts me the most.*

Ray is pretty much known for his patience. You don’t spend the better part of a decade with Gerard and the guys without having it tested. Constantly.

It’s been said more than a few times, by his bandmates and interviewers alike, that he has the patience of a saint. While that may not be his choice of words, Ray knows that he’s the only one who can deal with his bandmates for extended periods of time. See, the guys are fine on their own, almost normal, well rounded adults, but get them all together and it is literal chaos.

Take right now for example.

Gerard’s currently on some long winded speal about how Halloween encourages heteronormity and the sexualization of young kids. It’s actually an interesting topic and Ray would be more than glad to listen if it weren’t for Frank currently annoying the ever-loving shit out of Mikey.

But Frank’s not actually trying to annoy Mikey. Probably. 

He’s not that dumb. He’s just excited. Mikey on the other hand looks like he would rather be literally anywhere else right now.

A sharp gust blows, stinging Ray’s face with the frigid air. He shivers and tries to burrow his hands a little deeper in his coat pocket. Even Gerard pauses in his lecture and tightens his scarf around his neck.

Of course Frank seems unphased. He’s still running a good bit ahead of their group. Mikey sighs again and Ray has to fight very hard to not roll his eyes. He’s been doing that since they got here and honestly it’s getting annoying. Mikey had protested even coming with them, saying that picking a pumpkin for their bus was stupid and childish.

Which is fair but that’s kinda the point.

“Look Mikey! Whatta bout this one?” Frank shouts lugging over a large pumpkin. 

It’s fairly clean but there’s a weird indent on one side that makes it look like it was drop kicked. 

“Great,” Mikey says indifferently, crossing his arms and staring off in the distance. 

Frank’s face falls a bit but when he turns to Gerard and Ray the smile is back, if not a little forced.

“What do you guys think?” Frank asks, his tone a bit more delicate than before.

Ray offers him a smile, half in an attempt to not glare at Mikey but mostly because he knows Frank is actually excited about this. He’s not just doing this to be annoying.

“It’s nice,” Ray adds genuinely, letting Frank hold it up for him to look at.  
“Yeah that’s a good one,” Gerard says as well, bringing that smile back on to Frank’s face.

Ray can’t really blame him, or get upset for his over enthusiasm. It is his favorite holiday after all. Besides, with all the stress and anxiety that’s been brewing over their latest album, it’s nice to just let go and have a day like this. Even if some people want to be here more than others. 

“Mikey, how much do you wanna bet I can chuck this thing hard enough to hit that sign over there?” Frank asks, pointing at a small wooden sign a couple rows over.

There’s not a lot of people at the pumpkin patch and Ray’s grateful for the decrease in chance of collateral damage. He can handle fixing the three of these guys up but other people might want to press charges if a pumpkin is lugged at their head.

“You’re gonna throw out your arm,” Mikey says, uninterested.

“10 bucks Frank. You hit it without hurting yourself, 15.”  
Lighting up at Gerard’s challenge, Frank goes over as far as he can in the row they’re in. He squints, his tongue poking out as he measures it. 

Using both hands, Frank holds the pumpkin over his shoulder, as Ray realizes the idiot is trying to throw it overhand. Ray rolls his eyes and mentally checks to make sure his phone is in his pocket should Frank end up knocking himself out. It’s happened before, with less heavy objects, so Ray would rather be prepared.

“Ya know,” Gerard begins, in his signature lecture voice as he turns to Ray. “pumpkins used to be really small. It’s sorta the same as how we bred watermelons to have more of the sweet, red middle rather than the bitter green part. You used to not be able to really eat either of them but after years of selective-”

A crow calls loudly nearby and it must startle Frank because he jumps like he’s been shot. The pumpkin hits the pavement with a wet thump, the side cracking open on impact.  
Thankfully, it looks like none of it actually got on Frank. A true miracle. 

“Nice job dumbass,” Gerard calls with a laugh, “now they’re gonna make us fuckin’ pay for it.”

Frank is cackling too, completely undisturbed by the mess at his feet.  
“It’s coming out of your flu medicine fund,” Mikey deadpans as Frank passes Gerard a 10.

Then, Ray watches as Frank’s face morphs into that pure chaotic demon look he gets whenever he’s about to do something dumb. Ray could stop him but he learned that sometimes it’s more fun, and less stressful, to just let Frank fuck shit up and deal with the aftermath later.

Frank bends down, scooping a handful of pumpkin guts off the sidewalk with an evil grin. Mikey’s not paying attention, his fatal mistake as he turns his back and talks to Gerard about something. There’s a moment of silence where Frank watches the back of Mikey’s head and then he’s sprinting the few feet between them. He jumps up, splattering the mushy guts on the top of Mikey’s head with a wet splat.

Ray gasps, fully not expecting Frank to go that far. Though, he probably should have.

Mikey freezes as Gerard’s hands go to his mouth to try and hide his laughter. When he turns around, all Frank has time to do is mumble, “oh shit” before he’s bolting down the row. Mikey takes off in a sprint not a second later, shouting curses and threatening Frank with bodily harm. 

Watching amused, as Frank barely makes the turn down the next row, Ray wonders if Mikey’s gonna catch him. Mikey is close behind him, furious and still spouting curses as Frank dodges him. They both nearly run over a couple picking up a pumpkin and Ray shouts an apology at them once they get close enough.  
He and Gerard are laughing though, walking leisurely down the path like their two best friends aren't trying to kill each other. 

“You think Mikey’s gonna catch him?” Gerard asks as Frank makes it to the next row.

With only a short stack of pumpkins on each side acting as dividers to the rows, it’d be simple for Frank to just hop over them and escape Mikey. But then again, he’d probably try only to trip, fall, and end up breaking something. Mikey could probably do it, his legs long enough to step over the pumpkins easily.

It seems that neither of them has thought of that yet though.

“Nah,” Ray says with a shrug, eyes darting over as Frank shrieks and calls Mikey some ill-formed curse. “He’s too weaselly.”

“10 bucks?”

“Nah. I didn’t bring cash,” he denies, watching another couple look over at the grown adults still chasing each other through the pumpkin patch. 

“Buy me dinner?”

“And what would be a suitable place for our first date? If I’m buying you dinner I wanna make sure you’re gonna actually like it.”

Gerard laughs, that easy, genuine laugh that Ray had missed for a while. He’d missed all of this really.

The pressure of their band isn’t something he’d ever thought about. Ray likes music, practically fucking has his guitar sewn to him at the hip, but he’d never accounted for everything that came with gaining an audience. 

Keeping an image, deciding what that image was. Keeping his best friends from killing each other when that stress got thick enough to be suffocating. And then came other stuff.

Like making sure Frank didn’t catch hypothermia every winter. Like keeping the Way brothers away from things that were bad for them.  
He’d kinda failed in that regard but they’re all getting better, together. Which feels stupid to admit, even only to himself, but it’s true. There was a time when he thought that none of them would ever get this far.  
This sorta life can kill you if you're not careful.

Gerard gently bumps his shoulder with Ray’s, effectively pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Ray, dude you’re like hardcore frowning. You’re gonna get wrinkles if you’re not careful.”

“Sorry. I was thinking about a good place for us to warm up. Frank’s gonna get sick from running and breathing in all this cold air.”  
He hates lying, or at least avoiding the truth in favor of something equally as true but not quite what he probably should say. 

“Actually, that’s an old wives tale. Breathing in cold air, just like being out in the cold, can’t actually make you sick. What happens is, the cold air weakens your immune system and-”  
Ray tunes him out, a skill he learned years ago and one of the few things that keeps him sane. 

Frank shrieks again and Ray can see Mikey chasing him back down the rows. But they’re both laughing now as Frank finally figures out he can jump the pumpkins acting as dividers.

“NO FUCKING FAIR!” Mikey shouts before he too hops over.

But he’s laughing just as much as Frank is, his face all scrunched up and everything. They’re both clearly running out of steam and as they come jogging down the row that he and Gerard are still in, Ray can see the tint of pink in Frank’s cheeks from the exertion and the cold.

“What’s the matter pumpkin hair?” Frank taunts behind him before shooting Ray a shit-eating grin.

He tackles Ray, nearly taking him to the ground with the force of the impact. But he’s used to Iero sized objects running into him. Wiggling a little to get a good grip on Frank, Ray holds him still so that he doesn’t run off again. He’s also really thankful that Frank didn’t try and tackle Gerard. Even though he doesn’t need the cane anymore, Ray really doesn’t want to risk him getting hurt again.

Frank wiggles against him, trying desperately to get out of his hold and take off running again.

“No,” Frank shrieks, still laughing too hard to really pull out of Ray’s grip. “He’ll kill me! Lemme go!”

He squirms violently in his arms but Ray holds steady, finally shifting enough to be able to wrap both his arms around Frank’s chest and ensure he won’t escape. Frank of course yells even louder and giggles and begs Ray as Mikey comes over.  
“You deserve it dipshit,” Ray tells him lovingly.

Mikey just smirks and pries some of the sticky pumpkin guts out of his hair.

“You wouldn’t!” Frank gasps dramatically, as if Mikey’s threatening to stomp on his guitar or something. 

Ray’s probably gonna end up with pumpkin on himself too but it’s worth it for the squeal Frank makes as Mikey gets closer.

“Ray help!”

“Get his face,” Gerard chimes in, watching from a safe distance.

Ray can hear him laughing as Mikey grins evilly. 

“Asshole!” Frank shouts even louder as Mikey smears the pumpkin all over his face and down his neck. He even gets under Frank’s shirt, causing him to squirm and fight Ray even harder.

He can’t help but laugh at the look on Frank’s face as he lets him go. There’s pumpkin all over him, drying and already looking uncomfortably sticky. He’s pouting while Mikey gets a high five from Gerard.  
“That was mean!” Frank says defensively, sticking out his tongue like the child he is.

Ray rolls his eyes, going over to ruffle his hair as a sort of peace offering.

“I hate all of you,” he tells Ray bitterly even as he accepts the tissue offered from Ray’s pocket.

He cleans his face as best he can but Ray ends up taking the tissue from him to get all the spots he missed. 

“What, I don’t get to be babied?” Mikey demands, crossing his arms over his chest and trying very hard to pretend to be mad.

It doesn’t work very well, especially not with the drying pumpkin seeds stuck in his hair still.

“I will smash another one and stick your head in it. Don’t tempt me.”

This time Gerard is able to catch Mikey before he lunges at Frank again. If they let him catch the fucker again, he’ll probably actually kill him this time.

“Be nice. You did start it,” Ray chides, trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of all this.

They make music about vampires, death, and pain and yet here they are chasing each other around a public pumpkin patch like a bunch of kids. He’s sure the magazines would have a fucking field day if they caught them.

“Come on, it’s getting late and we still need to pick a pumpkin,” Ray tells them all once Frank and Mikey are as clean as he can get them with a travel pack of tissues and his spit.

It doesn’t take long before they’re stopping and someone’s certain they found “The best fuckin’ pumpkin ever Ray! Can we get this one?!” But then someone else will point out another, equally as good pumpkin and they’ll be back at square one.

After a while though, Ray notices how Gerard’s not running around like Frank and Mikey. He stays back with Ray, just like before. This time though, there's no commentary to fill the air. 

“I want this one!” Frank shouts, sitting on top of a pumpkin that won’t even begin to fit through the door of their bus.

Of course he’d pick one bigger than he is. 

“Something smaller!” Ray shouts, earning a defeated and over dramatic sigh from Frank.

It’s like having fucking kids.

Shaking his head, Ray turns back to Gerard to see if he’s watching. But he’s not even looking up. His head’s down and his hands are stuffed into his pockets like he’s somewhere else, lost in thought.

“What’s goin’ on up there?” Ray tries, smiling gently when he manages to get Gerard’s attention.

“Nothing…”  
Not believing that for a second, Ray gives him the most disbelieving look he can, something he’s honed through years of calling him out on his bullshit. Why Gerard thinks he can pretend to be fine when something’s clearly on his mind is a mystery to Ray. I mean, if he tells Ray to fuck off, he won’t press. 

Somethings aren’t things you talk about in the middle of the day, especially out in public. Ray gets that. Still, he’d like to help him if he can.

“Just… nothing bad, I swear,” Gerard tells him quickly, probably reading the concern so clearly written on Ray’s face. “I just never thought we’d… we’d have this I guess.”

“Have this?”

“Last tour was rough and I dunno, I guess I was worried that-”  
Gerard sighs, for once at a loss of words. 

“Worried that we wouldn't all still be here to have moments like this?” Ray adds carefully, keeping his tone as light as he can.

But he’d been thinking the same thing earlier.

“Yeah…” Gerard breathes. “That or we’d hate each other…”

Ray smiles sadly, understanding Gerard’s thought process completely.

“Well I can’t say anything for the two of them,” they both turn to their bandmates, who are currently arguing over the smallest pumpkin Ray has ever seen. “But I definitely don’t hate any of you. ‘Sides, it’s probably healthy or some shit to want to suffocate your friends in their sleep.”

This earns Ray a real laugh as Gerard shakes his head and the moment passes. But Ray can see how grateful his friend is for his words and he knows that they're probably going to finish this conversation later, in the safety of their bunks.

“Gee!” Frank shouts- Ray is going to go deaf at this rate if he doesn’t stop yelling- wobbling over with another large pumpkin in his arms.

He stops in front of them, Mikey glaring a little ways away, and holds it out as much as he can for them to see.

“It’s as big as you are,” Gerard deadpans as Frank whines.

“But that’s the point.”

“Here, since neither of you two seem to be capable,” Gerard teases, one corner of his mouth twitching up in a smirk. “I’m gonna find our pumpkin.”  
“What? Ray c’mon that’s not fair! You said me ‘n Mikey could pick!”

“How old are you?” Ray teases, enjoying the look on Frank’s face.

“Fuck you.”  
“Yeah yeah. You had your chance and you both acted like five-year olds.”  
“But-”  
“Nope. Sucks,” Ray replies cheerfully, earning a half hearted shove from Frank.

Mikey comes over, an actual smile on his face as he points towards his brother.

Following his finger, Ray watches as Gerard is already carefully inspecting a pumpkin. Not paying attention to Ray and Frank’s playful banter, Gerard seems to be fully immersed in choosing, as if this is some important task like cleaning up lyrics. He runs his hands over the bumps and lines of the pumpkin in his lap, drawing invisible designs on the skin with his finger to test them out. Ray, being the worry-er that he is, notices how Gerard shifts his previously injured leg, straightening it out as if it’s bothering him. But he’s completely focused on the next pumpkin he’s looking over, no discomfort or anything on his face.

Maybe Ray worries too much and his leg was just going to sleep. 

The three of them stand quietly for a long while, just watching Gerard. And Ray finds himself hoping that this moment lasts forever. 

One pumpkin keeps Gerard’s attention longer than the others. He holds it gently, almost like it’s a baby as he turns it over in his hands. He’s inspecting this one more closely than the others, a gentle smile spreading across his face the longer he holds it.

When he looks up at Ray, he knows that this is the one Gerard’s going to pick and he can’t help but notice the brightness is his eyes, how genuine and easy his smile is.

“This one. It’s perfect,” Gerard tells them quietly, as if this is some huge secret.

But Ray has to agree, the pumpkin is just the right size. It’s clean and there’s no blemishes that he can see. It’ll make a nice addition to their bus and he’s already thinking of what designs they can do on it.

“We should name him,” Frank says, breaking Ray out of his thoughts again.

Holding back a glare, because no one was actually having a moment but him, Ray carefully holds the pumpkin while Gerard stands up.

“What’s his name then?” Gerard asks, studying the pumpkin in his arms as if it’ll grow a mouth and tell them.

“His name is…” Frank pauses seemingly thinking hard. “Sir. Farts a Lot.”

“I’m going to shove this up your-”  
“Whoa- whoa-” Ray intervenes, barely holding back a laugh. “ That’s violent and possibly illegal since we’re in public.”  
“What about Jason?” 

Everyone turns to Mikey, even Ray almost forgetting he was standing there. He does that sometimes, just fades into the background until he says something and scares the shit out of people. Ray’s still not sure if he does it on purpose or not.

“Like the movies?” Gerard asks excitedly. 

“Yeah and we could carve Jason’s face onto Jason.”

Gerard gasps and Ray knows now that none of them are even going to get to touch the pumpkin. He can practically see the ideas forming in Gerard’s eyes, the artist’s mind going full speed. 

“Yeah and then I can get some of my paints and do the depth a little better. I read this thing on how you can get-”  
They walk out of the pumpkin patch together, Gerard talking a mile a minute about which strategy might be best for carving the face. He debates aloud on doing it exactly like the character Jason in the movies or making it in his own style. Ray is only half listening, genuinely curious about how much thought his friend is putting into this but also tired from the day out. They’re not used to this much exercise, this much walking around, not without the adrenaline from shows masking it until they crash on the bus after.

But Ray can’t help but think that they needed this. Even Mikey seems to be in a better mood and Frank might just have tired himself out. They all end up crashing on the bus the second they get back, a good nap winning over going out for food just yet.

Two hours into arguably one of Ray’s best naps, he feels someone gently shaking his shoulder to wake him up.

“Ray?” Gerard whispers, his voice fragile and almost scared.

“Yeah… wha’s wrong?” 

“Can I join you?” 

“Yeah, ‘course Gee.”  
So Gerard stuffs himself alongside Ray in the too-small bunk. The air is almost unpleasantly warm with both of them in such a small space but Ray really doesn’t mind. He can feel the tension melting off of Gerard, how he slowly begins to relax as time goes on.

“Had a nightmare…” Gerard whispers after a long while, his voice just as soft as before.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

He feels Gerard shake his head and attempt to snuggle just a little closer. Ray sighs and wraps his arm around his best friend, closing his eyes and trying to figure out what to say.

“Just- just keep me company?” he asks, nearly too quiet for Ray to hear.  
After all these years, after everything, would he ever think Ray would say no?  
“Always. Try and sleep s’more, we’re goin’ out to get food soon.”

Gerard hums, sounding already half asleep again. 

If he squints through the dingy lighting around him, Ray can see the pumpkin that Gerard picked. It sits by his bunk, carefully wrapped in a spare blanket so it doesn’t roll around while they move. 

He can’t help but think how different this already is compared to the last tour they were on. There’s no fighting, not real fighting anyway, no interventions or every little thing going wrong. 

It feels natural and normal. Even though they’re more different now than they’ve ever been.

Gerard groans in his sleep and he twists a bit in Ray’s arms. He’s tiny now, his hair not the only thing that he’s changed. And Ray would be worried but then they have moments like this. Where Gerard actually comes to him for help rather than bottling it up.

It’s progress and that little pumpkin in the hall is proof of it. Proof that they’re still the nerdy kids who carve pumpkins and climb into each others’ bunks when they’ve had a nightmare. And yeah, they’ve been through a lot, more than their fair share. 

But they’re still here aren’t they? 

Maybe that’s all that matters. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is what happens when I set out to write a cute thing and then Disenchanted comes on and I get Sad.  
hehe  
also, I don't really have a specific "year" that this is set in. In my mind I was thinking Danger Days tour because I mention the cane and stuff that happened in TBP but it's more of an AU than anything. A point in their lives where they reflect and take time to just hang out. Yee, so it was sad but also I tried to make it hopeful too.


	31. They Help Us Hide Who We Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
*cursing  
*blood and violence  
*implied/referenced self harm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last day!  
and I'm late by like 2 hours cause this thing literally took me all day before I was even happy with it enough to send to the amazing @pauladiazcruz. So yeah, sorry it's late but it's 2am and I have work tomorrow so *shrug*  
I am happy with this though. It was sorta fun to write in this universe, maybe because it is pretty close to one I've written in before. I dunno, I'm not gonna think to far into It and neither should you haha  
So yeah, a very huge thank you to Paula for helping me go over this even though it was late! She's great and this would be a mess without her.  
Okay enough sleep deprived ramblings, I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Chapter title is from Police Police by Frank Iero and the Future Violents*

“Cut it out,” Mikey whispers harshly.

A loud shush from the teacher at the front of the class goes mostly ignored as Mikey focuses on his brother.

This is the only class they have together, seeing as Gerard is almost four years older than him, and it’s not even technically a class. More of a club.

He’s not sure how he got roped into the photography class but it was actually proving to be kinda cool. They were essentially given free range to shoot whatever they wanted, so long as they practiced whatever technique or effect was being taught that week. Mikey was actually having fun and he would borrow the camera that him and Gerard shared as often as he could pry it away from his older brother. 

Having an easy class his Freshman year is already proving to be a life saver. Not to mention he actually gets to spend time with Gerard during the school day because of it. 

Right now he’s supposed to be going over his folder so that he can turn it in before the end of the grading period. Easy stuff. All he has to do is just go through it and make sure it’s organized and neat.

Except Gerard keeps fucking with the lights and distracting him.

He’s just barely dimming them before easing them back to full brightness. If you weren’t looking for it, or used to it in Mikey’s case, then you’d never notice.

“I’m bored,” Gerard whines as quietly as he can, both of them glancing to the teacher.  
But she’s engrossed in whatever is on her laptop screen so they both turn back to face each other at their shared desk.

“You can’t just do shit like that. We’ll get caught!” Mikey whisper-yells. 

He anxiously darts his eyes around the room, making sure none of the other students have picked up on their conversation. Only one person looks up, some girl Mikey barely recognizes, but she just smiles and waves before going back to her folder.

“No one even noticed but you.”

Mikey rolls his eyes but Gerard does have a point. 

“And if someone else did notice what-”  
“Ahem.”

Looking up slowly, Mikey finds Mrs. Hawthorn, his photography teacher, staring down at him and Gerard. Her brow is raised and her lips are pressed in a thin, unamused line. With her arms crossed over her chest and the click of her shoe against the classroom floor as she taps her foot impatiently, Mikey finds himself shrinking down in his seat.  
“Now just what was so important that you two must talk about in my class?” she demands coldly, her shrill voice grating against Mikey’s ears.

Hopelessly sneaking a look at Gerard, Mikey is praying that his brother will be able to come up with an excuse. But he looks as scared as Mikey feels.  
Great. Of all the ways they could out their family, of course talking during class would be the way they do it. Typical.

“Well?” Mrs. Hawthorn demands, her shoe making a series of tap,tap,tap on the floor.

Mikey fights the urge to lean away as her voice continues to grow more high pitched every time she speaks to them. He can see the disapproval in the way she’s looking at them, like she was expecting this but is still upset over it.

“We were uh… discussing who’s going to get the camera after school,” Gerard speaks up, his voice wavering and quiet.  
“Was right now really the best time for that conversation Mr.Way?” 

Gerard shrinks a little at the bitterness of her tone, the condescending way she’s speaking to him only proving to make Mikey want to shout at her.

It pisses him off fucking- endlessly that teachers think they can talk to kids, to his brother, like this. Just because they have some stupid fancy college degree hanging over their desk does not mean that they can be cruel to their students. 

“No ma’am,” Gerard whispers in reply, shrinking down a little more in his seat.

The lights flicker, strongly enough for some kids to notice. Mikey hears one girl say something about a storm coming and the power going out. He ignores her.  
Risking pissing off Mrs. Hawthorn even more, Mikey grabs Gerard’s hand under the desk. He clings to Mikey instantly and he can feel the anxiety coursing through him through their bond.

“I couldn’t hear you Gerard. Seriously child you need to speak up if you ever want people to take you seriously,” Mrs. Hawthorn chides with an exasperated roll of her overly eye-shadowed eyes.

Gerard gulps and Mikey’s able to see the fear pass over him. 

She has no right to talk to him like this. Mikey fucking knows she heard him the first time. This is just her being cruel.

“No-no ma’am,” Gerard repeats, his voice just a fraction louder.

Mikey resists the urge to break Mrs. Hawthorn’s nose. But she’d deserve it.  
“No ma’am what?” she presses cruelly.

By now the rest of the classroom is watching the three of them, 20 eyes boring into the back of Mikey’s head. He ignores them, choosing instead to give Gerard’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Your class wasn’t the-the best time to talk,” Gerard manages to stutter out, his eyes fixed on a random spot on the table.

“Interrupt my class again and you’ll both be in detention.”

She stalks back to her desk, annoying high heels clicking as she goes. Mikey doesn’t spare her a second glance, instead twisting his seat around to face Gerard.

His brother lays his head down on the table, resting it in his arms. Mikey watches him breathe deeply, his body shuddering a bit on the exhale. Gerard’s crying, he realizes with a pang of both sympathy and anger. Sympathy for his brother, because he knows that was unnecessarily cruel when they weren’t even really disrupting the class. And anger to their teacher for being such a bitch.

Even though they’re not touching, Mikey can feel the anxiety radiating off of him. He breathes heavily again, sniffling a little as the lights flicker harshly.

‘Gee?’ Mikey thinks to him as hard as he can.

They’re not supposed to do this here. It’s rather obvious if someone’s looking and they’re both making faces and looking at each other like they’re talking when there’s no audible words. But this feels like an emergency. 

If he doesn’t get Gerard calmed down the power very well could go out. And as much fun as that would be, it’d only bring more suspicion on them. 

‘Mom ‘n dad will kill us if they find out we’re talking like this in public,’ comes Gerard’s weak reply a moment later.

Mikey wishes they weren’t in class right now. As much as physical contact helps his brother in times like this, he understandably tries to avoid it when in public. People already give him enough shit as it is. A simple hug though would probably help Gerard more than anything else. 

But Mikey won’t, unless he asks him to.

‘Well, your head’s down and unlike you, I know how to not talk with my entire fuckin’ body,’ Mikey teases back gently in an attempt to lighten his brother’s mood a bit. 

He sobers quickly though and pretends to go through his folder some more so that no one pays any attention to him. Gerard’s got a little more leeway and not even Mrs. Hawthorn could be cruel enough to get onto him for not doing work right now. At least he hopes she’s fucking not.

‘Are you okay?’ he asks a moment later, growing worried the longer Gerard stays quiet.

‘Fine.’

‘Bullshit.’

Gerard sighs, in his head and out loud. He looks miserable and Mikey honestly feels like shit for getting him in trouble. His brother’s always had trouble with anxiety and he does his best to help him with it rather than make it worse. This definitely didn’t help him any.

‘You could fuck up the lights if you want?’ Mikey ventures, earning a confused hum from his brother. ‘Make the school loose power and then we could go home.’

‘Too suspicious. You just said so like 10 minutes ago’

‘I mean there haven't been any hunters actually at school in like a month. I think we’d be okay.’

But Gerard has a point. Again.

They’re not the only family who was being watched in town but they were certainly one of the more closely followed ones. All because someone had claimed to see Mikey miraculously saving the hamster in Mr. Walton’s class after it had gotten out and been stepped on. Which was true of course, he did heal the poor thing, but he’s not sure if it was worth the consequences.

Their family had been forced to lay low for weeks, always keeping one eye open and refraining from doing any sort of magic. The hunters never ended up finding anything, not concrete anyway, and had backed off after a while. They still roam the town though, hidden and waiting for someone to fuck up.

And like most people, Gerard’s abilities manifest with his emotions. Almost like a nervous tick. 

He can’t really help it but he is getting better at not blowing light bulbs and circuits every time he gets anxious. Though they’ve had to practically Gerard proof the house because panic attacks are even more of a bitch when you can control electricity.

‘You’re gonna be miserable if you stay all day. I’ll tell mom what happened and she’ll understand,’ Mikey tries, already knowing that, if they stay, Gerard’s day is only going to get worse.

‘Not even you can save my ass if hunters come,’ Gerard says bitterly, though there’s something inherently sad in his words as well. ‘I’m fine.’

As if to punctuate this, Gerard finally raises his head. His eyes are a little red, if a little puffy too, and his face is more pale than normal. But if you just glance at him, you probably wouldn’t be able to tell he was crying. 

Probably.

‘Can I?’

Gerard sends him just a brief thread of confusion before it clicks and he’s nodding quietly. So Mikey reaches over, as casually as he can because people already think they’re weird enough as it is, and brushes his fingers over Gerard’s cheek bones. 

Instantly the redness fades and the evidence of his anxiety and tears are washed away with the smallest touch of Mikey’s magic. He’s not even tired as he focuses back down on his folder. 

Something sharp hits the back of his head, stinging and causing him to jump and curse. When he looks down at his feet there’s a paper clip, folded to be a nasty projectile. He turns around in his chair to try and spot the culprit.

“Mr. Way.”

Shit.

He turns hesitantly towards his teacher, still rubbing the small wound on the back of his head. It’s already healing, perks of being a witch he guesses.

“Outside my classroom. Now.”

Gulping, Mikey notices Gerard flash him a sympathetic smile and a brief press against his mind as comfort. 

The door clicks behind him and he leans against the wall beside it as Mrs. Hawthorn rounds on him, her features already set in a harsh scowl.

“I am getting very tired of your behavior young man. First you disrespect me by speaking when I have class going and then you make a scene by jumping up and shouting profanities.”

“Actually I-”

“Do not interrupt me,” she spits, shutting Mikey up instantly. “I let you sit with your brother only because of his needs and situation but if these disruptions continue I will move you two apart.”

Mikey bristles at the way she spoke about Gerard, as if that stupid paper they had to give the school after what happened last year means he’s just another problem child. He hates it, hates the way teachers either treat Gerard like literal glass or they just treat him more cruelly than before. Like Mrs. Hawthorn. She’s fucking convinced he’s faking it or some shit. 

Which is absolutely absurd because Mikey still has the fucking nightmares and Gerard… well, he has to carry the scars for the rest of his life. And that’s why Mikey just doesn't get how people like his teacher can be so heartless. He’s not asking for special fucking treatment or something, all Gerard wants is a peaceful, quiet senior year. His brother has fought hard to be able to come to school this fall and Mikey will be damned if some asshole like Mrs. Hawthorn makes it any harder on him.

“And if that doesn’t work,” she continues, clearly not noticing Mikey’s anger beginning to surface. “I will not hesitate to switch your classes. If you can not learn in the room together then I will ensure that you do separately. Am I clear?”

“Yes ma’am.”

The words feel thick, fake, and he’s certain she knows that he’s not sincere. If they even tried to separate them Mikey would fight tooth and nail to prevent it. 

“Good,” she snaps, opening the door and practically shoving him inside.

\-------------------------------------

“God that sucked,” Gerard groans, dropping his head against the steering wheel and sighing deeply.

His arms wrap around the wheel, hiding his face. Buckling up in the passenger seat, Mikey leans over and puts a comforting arm around his brother’s shoulders. He can feel the tension residing there and he begins to heal it away without really thinking about it.

It’s mostly his fault anyway.

“What’d she even say to you?” Gerard asks after a moment, lifting his head slowly and peering over at Mikey through his hair.

When Mikey takes longer than normal to reply, Gerard just sits up right and buckles up. He cranks the car without a word and pulls out of the school parking lot.

On one hand, Mikey should probably tell Gerard about the threats the teacher made. Separating them would be… 

Well, Mikey is pretty sure that they’d survive it. They’re not as dependent on each other as they were last year but he’d still like to avoid just completely being cut off from Gerard during the school day. Most of his brother’s classes are online and he spends a great portion of the day in the library because of this. Gerard has lunch C with the other seniors at 1:45 while Mikey eats with his class at 11:30. It kinda sucks, not ever really getting to see his brother and only communicating through the occasional text message that they can sneak in.

Talking through their minds, using the bond they have, is difficult when they’re in separate parts of the school. And he’d like to avoid resorting to that if he could. That’s why he’s so grateful for their photography class. Gerard gets to do art at school and they both get to basically hang out the whole class. 

On the other hand however, he sorta doesn’t want to tell him. That class is a huge thing for them. Gerard’s not even supposed to be in an actual classroom but they’d begged for him to be able to take this one. The only reason they’ve gotten to is because Mikey is in it with him. But honestly, it doesn’t feel like that big of a deal. It’s honestly his favorite part of the day and he’s sure it’s Gerard’s as well. And honestly, Mikey doesn’t want to risk worrying Gerard over losing it if Mrs. Hawthorn’s threats are idle.

It’d just be added stress.

“I’m not made of fucking glass, Mikey,” Gerard speaks up a moment later, his eyes never leaving the road. “I know it was about me. What’d she say?”

Realizing he doesn’t really have a choice, Mikey gives in and relays the conversation back to his brother. Gerard doesn’t look very surprised at the information and what their teacher said but he doesn’t look sad or upset about it either so Mikey does his best to not worry.

“I don’t think she can separate us,” Gerard says after a long silence of only the radio playing in the background. “And I don’t want her to… but I dunno, I don’t think it’d be the end of the world ya know?”

“Yeah?” 

Mikey doesn’t mean for the surprise to come out but he just can’t help it. He’d thought Gerard would at least be worried about what may happen. But he looks only mildly concerned at the most.

“Yeah. I mean, it’d suck having no one to talk to in class if she switched us but, like I said, I don’t think it’d be like… detrimental or anything.”

“Oh… right.”

Mikey realizes, as they pull into their driveway, that maybe he’s one of the ones treating Gerard like glass too. He’ll never stop worrying over him, it’s something he’s literally always done, but maybe he too needs to learn how to trust him a little more.  
\------------------------------------------------------------

At dinner that night, their parents ask to see some of Gerard’s pictures for photography. He practically runs upstairs to grab them and he explains each of them to their parents. Gerard’s are loads better than Mikey’s, even though they used the same camera, often at the same time. But he just has that artist’s eye and is able to find just the right angle and lighting. Their parents seem to really like both of their photos, practically begging Mikey to run and get his own.  
He shows his off a little less enthusiastically but he ends up smiling like a little kid while his parents praise him. Sometimes he forgets just how great his parents are, takes for granted their genuine interest and sense of pride for seemingly everything him and Gerard do.

Dinner carries on as usual, the mood light and easy as they eat and talk. Gerard brings up that he’s thinking about applying for a part time job on the weekends, which leads to hesitant excitement from all of them. But honestly, Mikey does his best to not worry.

Gerard’s online classes rarely leave him with homework so it’s not like having a job would interfere with his classwork. Besides, he’s had a job before so he knows what to expect.

Either way, Gerard promises to think about it a little while longer to appease their parents. Naturally the conversation then shifts to Mikey. He brings up how he and this other kid in his class are trying to learn how to play guitar. Mikey doesn't have his own, though he tries to lay heavy hints as to what he wants for Christmas or his birthday this year.

By the time they’re almost done eating, the flow of words has slowed as they all just enjoy the quiet time before everyone’s rushing off to bed or to do chores.

Out of nowhere there’s a hurried, impatient knocking at the front door and they all look up at once.

“I’ve got it,” their mom says as she disappears down the hall.

Mikey can hear the door opening, his mother’s greeting cut off by a deep male voice.

“I would like to inspect your house ma’am. I have the warrant if you’d like to see it.”

Freezing, Mikey finds himself instantly recognizing the voice. It’s one of the hunters who’d done rounds at their school, interviewing students and teachers for any “suspicious” individuals. But for him to come here, to their house. With a warrant. It can only mean one thing.

As the sound of footsteps in the hallway get closer, Mikey tries to recall if he’s left anything suspicious out. Herbs and things aren’t enough to persecute someone but spellbooks and the like were more than enough. But he’s fairly certain he’d cleaned up his practice things before dinner, shoving them back under the bed for safe keeping. Mikey’s also pretty sure they can’t like- move things to search. But he’s not certain and from the look his dad has across the table, he’s just as worried as he is.

“We got a call from a concerned teacher at your sons’ school. She said that odd things happen around them and you can understand our concern regarding the well-being and safety of both the school as well as your neighborhood,” the man’s voice comes from the doorway of the kitchen and Mikey turns around to look at him as he comes in.

He’s dressed smartly. The pale grey dress shirt and dark jeans give him the air of authority. The hunter could pass as a cop, maybe even FBI if he wanted. Mikey sees right through it, obviously, but he can’t call him out on the blatant lie and impersonation of a cop. It’d only make his family look all the more suspicious.

“Good evening everyone,” the hunter says pleasantly, offering them a kind smile that only serves to make Mikey’s skin itch.

This man most likely has killed, brutally killed, people just like him. People like his family. And here he is, acting like the most non-violent person in existence. 

“My name is Officer Andrews. I was telling your mother here that there have been some concerns voiced to me recently and I elected to make a house call to ensure everything is alright.” 

No one speaks, even though it was clear that Andrews was waiting on them to say something. Perhaps to defend themselves or demand to see the warrant.

“I just need to take a quick look around and then I’d like to speak with each of you individually.”

“My sons are both minors and you can’t speak with them without my permission,” his father speaks up, though his face is devoid of any emotion.

“If I do not find anything then yes, you are correct. I won’t be able to speak with your children without your consent. However, if I do find anything incriminating or I have probable cause, I will be able to interview them.” 

Mikey takes a purposeful breath, trying to keep his breathing even and his growing panic at bay. He glances to his brother, on instinct, and watches the way Gerard’s eyebrows begin to knit in concentration. He’s fighting off his own anxiety as well as keeping his powers at bay.

If you didn’t know Gerard, you’d almost think he was fine.

“Right,” Andrews says curtly, as if he’s come to a conclusion. “I’ll have to ask all of you to stay in this room while I investigate. Feel free to continue your meal.”

And with that he purposely walks through the open doorway and into the adjoined living room. Mikey can hear him rummaging around for a minute or two and then there’s a click, like a door opening, and the sound of footsteps going downwards.  
He’s found Gerard’s room, Mikey realizes with a start. 

It feels like no one is breathing, all of them stock still and waiting for the moment to come crashing down on them. Mikey’s mom stands frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide. His parents are debating something, their mouths moving but no words coming out. They can’t speak directly like Gerard and Mikey can, as they’re only able to thanks to a special type of bond they developed when their powers came in. But they have their own way of getting the meaning across anyway. His parents are likely debating on whether or not they could hold their own in a fight, or if they should run.

Mikey’s not sure what the answer is either, so he stays out of it, choosing instead to focus on his older brother. It is his room the hunter is going through, probably rudely going through all of his notebooks and art folders. Which is like- a major breech of fucking privacy, especially for Gerard, and Mikey finds himself hating the hunter just a little more.

‘Gee?’ he calls carefully, putting actual effort in keeping the worry out of his words.

‘Hush,’ Gerard practically chides, his face briefly flashing with panic as he glances in the direction of the basement door. ‘ I dunno if he has something to scan for our energies or not.’

That shuts Mikey up instantly. He didn’t know that was a thing.

They have ways to see if your using magic? 

The thought disturbs him more than he’d like to admit. With how much he uses his magic throughout the day, the thought of someone being able to track him based off of the slightest blip of his energy is enough to make him want to run. 

But his parents don’t seem like they plan on running.

Which is odd because the hunter isn’t even in the same room as them, they could probably book it and be able to escape. But then again, hunters never play fair and he probably warded the doors or something to keep them in. He’s met more than a few hypocritical hunters over the years.

“Well, finish eating boys,” their mom says at last, something in her voice strained.

She slowly walks back to the table and Mikey can’t help but notice that her hands shake as she takes a bite of food. 

Mikey doesn’t feel hungry anymore. 

“Well, well, well, what have we here?”  
Andrews walks back into the kitchen, his voice eerily calm. Mikey spots something in his hands and his heart plummets violently.

The hunter drops what he’s holding in the center of the table, the impact making the plates clatter and jump. Mikey’s breath stops as he realizes what Andrew has found. 

It’s Gerard’s book, his grimoire. The single most incriminating piece of evidence that the hunter could find.

“Well? Answer my question,” the hunter snaps as he rounds predatorily on Mikey’s parents.

“It- it’s a gift.” his dad answers quickly, his words shaking and betraying his fear. “A gag gift. One of my coworkers thought it’d be funny and I-”

Before his dad can finish, Andrews strikes the table with his fist. The sound seems to echo around him, loud and impossibly jarring. Mikey can only pray that the hunter hadn’t noticed the power blink for a split second.  
When Mikey risks a look over to his brother while the hunter is distracted, he finds Gerard pale and completely still. But it’s not panic or fear written in his expression like Mikey had expected. At least not entirely. He looks thoroughly pissed, absolutely furious as the hunter resumes his taunting. 

“Try again,” Andrews seethes, all pleasantries thrown out now that he has proof.

They’re no longer worth the effort of acting like a normal person, all that’s left is the hunter’s unbridled hate for them. Mikey can feel it in the way he’s glaring at his parents, like they’re below him. Barely worth the time. 

The book in the center of the table feels wrong. It’s Gerard ‘s and Mikey, until this very moment, has always been fond of it. It holds all of his brother’s work, all his research. Honestly, watching his brother add to his small collection of knowledge has always been a favorite pastime of his. But right now, the pleasant memories associated with that leather-bound book are turning sour.

Mikey can’t help but feel damned. Condemned.

They’re going to die. There’s no way out of this. Because he knows that if they fight back they’ll only be making it worse on themselves. And that’s if they even win.

Hunters always have nasty tricks up their sleeves.

Mikey’s dad gulps and glances briefly at their mom, once again debating silently on what to do. He tries to think of anything he’s learned that could help but either panic is making his mind blank or… or they’re truly screwed. 

“It’s mine,” his dad says in a whisper and Mikey has to bite back a gasp. “I hid it from my family but the book is mine.”

No. No no no no.

“Is it now? So then can you tell me why I found it in your child’s room?”

Oh god…

“So, which one of you does it belong to?” the hunter demands, spinning to face him and Gerard. “Or would I find another in the other’s room as well?”

Andrews stalks over and leans beside Mikey. He’s breathing into his ear, the breath hot and violating almost. The hunter is so close and Mikey debates shifting to the side to get away from him. Just his proximity, the air of what Mikey can only describe as evil, flowing off of him is sending cold chills down his spine. 

All thoughts of moving away from him vanish however when he feels something sharp poke at his side.

He’s got a knife.

Mikey’s mind slows to a stop, the world narrowing until it’s just Andrews’ horrible breath in his ear and the knife that’s slowly poking into his side. It hasn’t pierced his skin yet but Mikey doesn’t want to see if he can heal himself fast enough to keep from bleeding out if the hunter decides to stab him with it.

“Is it yours?” he drawls in Mikey’s ear as the blade breaks his skin.

He hides his wince at the sharp pain and holds deathly still.

“Or is it pretty boy’s over there?”

Gerard doesn’t react, his face remaining neutral but Mikey can feel his brother seething just underneath. 

“Hmm? Are you gonna tell me?” Andrews growls impatiently, digging the knife a little further into Mikey’s side. 

He can’t stop the cry that escapes his lips as he feels fresh, hot blood begin to run down his side. Gerard stiffens immediately. The anger he’s barely hiding momentarily flashes across his face but he hides it again expertly. 

His parents aren’t moving. They’re terrified, Mikey can tell by the way they both seem to be only capable of staring at him and Gerard. But they know better than to fight back. At least not yet. Not when the hunter has the upper hand. 

Or, more accurately, a knife in their youngest child.

Andrews’ pressure on the knife lessens momentarily before it retreats to simply poking him rather than actually penetrating his skin. He focuses hard, trying to heal the shallow wound on his side. It’s painful but not very deep. Healing it should be easy but-

Oh fuck.

He can’t heal it. It won’t close up. He can’t even get the light bleeding to stop.

The panic must be written all over his face because Andrews laughs deeply, his cruel grin mocking Mikey as the knife pierces his skin again, a few inches beside the previous spot.  
He winces but doesn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing him cry out again. 

“I had this knife specially made young man. You can’t heal the wounds it inflicts. It’s impossible.”

Mikey sucks in a deep breath, trying to think through the panic and stinging pain to figure out something, anything that they can do.

‘Stay still’ Gerard says in his head, something desperate and pleading lacing his words.

‘As if I’m just gonna fuckin’ lean into the very sharp knife currently in my side!’

‘No. just, I’m gonna try something. Stay still.’

‘Oh…’

‘Please Mikey.’

‘I will, yeah. Be careful.’

“Alright, ya know, as fun as this is for me,” Andrews says loudly, pressing the knife just a little further into his skin. “But I’ve got more than enough evidence to prove what you four are. My backup is already on the way but with how… pliant you all are being, I doubt I’ll need much help.”  
“Just leave us alone. We’re not hurting anyone,” his dad begs, leaning forward earnestly.

He has no clue what his parents are doing but they’re clearly not helping things in this situation. Though, he can’t really blame them for begging. If the situation were reversed....

So Mikey stays still, waiting for whatever it is that Gerard is planning and hoping that they’re not all going to die tonight. He doesn’t dare look over to Gerard, doesn’t want to give him away should Andrew follow his gaze and catch on. 

But he wants to. Desperately. He wants to make sure Gerard’s okay. 

Fuck having a little more faith in him. Gerard’s probably freaking out right now and Mikey’s literally just sitting here while the hunter slowly stabs him. 

"Please," their father begs again, leaning forward even more. "Leave the boys alone. They're just kids."

Mikey hears the hunter practically growl. He jerks the knife from Mikey’s side and even though the wounds aren’t deep, he instinctively presses his palm over the wet spot of his shirt to try and stop the bleeding. His magic is trying to work, he can feel it, but the shallow wounds just aren’t healing. Which is annoying but it’s honestly not his biggest problem right now.

The hunter wordlessly goes over to the other side of the table. Mikey watches in horror as Andrews suddenly knocks his father unconscious with the handle of the knife. His mom goes to say something, her eyes wide and fearful, but in a blink she too is slumping forward onto the table.

Out cold.

Mikey pulls a shaky breath as the hunter walks easily back over, rolling his shoulders. He stiffens as the knife goes back to its spot in his side. The pressure is just enough to sting, to remind Mikey that he can and will stab him properly. The thought alone is making ice seep into his veins and he can’t help but look over to his brother.

Gerard looks… well not scared, more angry than anything but there's fear now too.

"What do you want from us?" Gerard asks bitterly, the words spitting with a venom Mikey’s never heard in his voice before.

"Don't act so brave. I've read up on you. It's amazing what they'll give you if you wave a fake badge. Student records and doctor’s files are easy."

"What that's supposed to fucking mean?" Gerard spits, his eyes narrowing and the lights flickering around them.

The hunter either doesn’t notice Gerard’s purposeful display or he’s choosing to ignore it.

"That if I leave you alone with this knife," he presses said knife a little more into Mikey's side, deeper than he’s gone before. "You'll probably do my job for me."

Mikey gasps, helpless to watch the way Gerard's face falls and pales.

"Fuck you," Gerard says but its mumbled and weak.

Things seem to happen all at once. Mikey feels the knife sink to the hilt into his side, the sharp, burning pain taking his breath away. Instantly all the lights in the room go out together, plunging the room into total darkness.

Distantly, through the sudden disorientation and pain exploding in his side, he registers that the knife is still in him. 

But that’s good right? At least he won’t bleed out, his mind sluggishly adds.

He gasps as the hunter grabs him roughly by his shoulder, keeping him from slouching over the table. Mikey hadn’t even noticed he’d begun to fall.

But not even a second later the lights all snap back on at once. 

Gerard’s standing now. 

He’s beside Mikey, face to face with the hunter and absolutely seething from the looks of it. Gerard’s hands are balled into tight fists, electricity dancing dangerously around them as he stares Andrews down.

“Let him go,” Gerard demands lowly, his eyes narrowed.

Mikey can see the sparks erupting in his brother’s eyes as the hairs on his arms stand on end. He knows that Gerard won’t hurt him but that doesn’t stop him from shying away as much as he can. The hunter is still touching him so if Gerard zaps him, Mikey will get it too.

“I really don’t think you want me to take this knife out,” the hunter warns cooly, a smirk spreading across his face.

He’s enjoying this.

Mikey watches the fear flash across Gerard’s face, the way he glances down to him for just a second in panic. 

`I'm fine,’ Mikey thinks desperately to him, trying to blink through the tears forming in his eyes from the pain. 

He’s only partially sure that nothing important was hit but the hunter has a point. A very good one. 

The second he takes that knife out, Mikey’s going to bleed. A lot. 

Gerard doesn’t answer him but Mikey can see his resolve burning in his eyes alongside the electricity. The sparks in his hands grow, flickering outwards around him.

“Let. Him. Go.”

“You kill me and my crew will destroy you. You and your family,” the hunter threats easily, shifting a bit and causing the knife to move inside Mikey.

He cries out again as the sharp, blinding pain hits him.

Gerard acts instantly, reaching out and yanking the hunter away from him. Andrews grins maniacally, pulling another knife from under his coat as he fights out of his brother’s grip.

There’s burning smoke sizzling on the hunter’s sleeves where Gerard grabbed him but either he doesn't feel the pain or doesn’t care.

Mikey finds himself somehow still upright in his chair, though his head is swimming from the pain. He glances down hesitantly, unsure if he really wants to see his own blood pouring out onto the kitchen tiles.

But he looks anyway.

He’s barely bleeding, the hilt of the knife still poking out of his shirt. Meaning he’s not bleeding, at least not badly. Not yet.

Wrapping his hand around the handle protectively, Mikey lets his head rest back against the seat behind him. He’s breathing heavily, everything going in slow motion around him.

He hears Gerard grunt and the sound of electricity sizzling out so he turns his attention back to the fight. They’re a little ways away now, Gerard backed against the far wall of the kitchen.  
There’s a shallow cut across his cheek, a single drop of blood visible, but otherwise he looks fine. His powers seem as strong as ever, bright and dangerous as they swirl around him.

“If you kill me you’re only condemning your family to death. Do you want that Gerard? Do you want to be the reason your baby brother dies?”

Mikey watches the way Gerard tenses at the hunter’s words but pride washes over him as well when he notices that his brother doesn’t back down either.

“Fuck off already. If you had backup you would’a come in with them. And the only reason my brother is hurt is because you,” Gerard’s electricity flashes, sparking around him like lighting in the clouds. “And if he dies I will personally hold you responsible.”

“You’re a child. You can’t win this fight.”  
“Wanna bet?”

And just like that they’re lunging at each other. Gerard directs a thin, but no less deadly, bolt towards the hunter’s chest but it’s blocked. He twists, dodging the hunter’s knife as he comes up behind him.

Mikey is beginning to see spots dance in his vision, though he’s not quite sure if it’s from the afterimages of the electricity Gerard is wielding or from his injury. He’s just gonna assume it’s both. 

He hears Gerard land a hit on the hunter, the unmistakable sound of energy entering flesh. Andrews cries out in pain and Mikey is able to turn his head in time to see him fall to one knee.

Gerard has one hand on his shoulder, right at the juncture between his neck. Sparks shoot out around his hand, all his energy concentrated on the one spot. 

“Back down,” Gerard grits, squeezing his fingers into the hunter’s flesh and making him yelp.

“You better- help… your brother. He can’t heal- himself… ya know.”

Mikey feels his heart sink, knowing fully well that this tactic is to distract Gerard long enough for the hunter to regain the upper hand. But he’s not lying, Mikey can feel himself fading.

But Gerard doesn’t fall for it. 

“You’re pathetic,” Gerard mutters before closing his eyes.  
The electricity grows impossibly bright, forcing Mikey to turn his head away as his eyes begin to burn with each flash. He hears the hunter grunt once before he hits the floor.

It hits Mikey that Gerard is a lot stronger than he looks. He always seems so quiet, fragile. People take one look at him and assume that he needs protecting. And yeah, maybe he does sometimes but everyone does. Lately, though unintentional, Mikey’s begun to think of Gerard in that fragile way.

He worries constantly, almost like he’s waiting for a ball to drop and things to hit the fan. Clearly though, even when faced with everything that just happened, Gerard was the one who saved Mikey. Hell, he saved their parents too. 

He forgets sometimes how powerful Gerard is, how his strength really shows when the people he cares about needs him.

Mikey wants to tell him this, to apologize for being one of the people to see him differently now. Even though he’d promised that things wouldn’t change. But it’s growing harder for him to stay awake as darkness begins to creep further along the edges of his vision.

.

.

.

“Mikey. Mikey c’mon look at me!” 

Gerard’s hands are shaking him and it takes Mikey a moment too-long to open his eyes. Everything feels fuzzy, like he’s under water inside a glass box. He can see Gerard moving his hand away to look at the knife but he doesn’t feel anything when the handle is jostled by the dead weight of his own hand.

There’s blood on the sleeve of Gerard’s t-shirt, the fabric ripped and revealing the wound underneath. 

“Gee,” Mikey slurs as he tries to sit up enough to take a look at the injury. 

“Hey. Hey, no Mikey take it easy.”

Gerard holds him down with a firm press to his shoulder, giving him a worried glance when he doesn’t fight back.

“Can I try something?” Gerard asks quietly, almost to himself. 

But Mikey nods mutely anyway.

He feels Gerard’s presence in his mind, strong and familiar. It makes some of the static fade away, enough for him to feel the burning ache once again.

“I’m gonna see if I can bypass whatever he used to block your magic. See if I can like- jumpstart your healing.”

Mikey doesn’t answer, isn’t sure if he’d be able to anyway.

Slowly he feels Gerard’s energy sync up with his own. They’ve only done this a couple of times and with varying results. Their bond is an odd one, something that only happens to a few siblings every century. So they don’t have much to go on or anyone really to ask about it.

But they’ve done some cool shit before so maybe Gerad’s right. Maybe this will help and they won’t have to risk an ER visit.

As time goes on, Mikey feels his magic begin to respond to Gerard’s. It’s slow but his head grows a little more clear, his vision sharpening again as he’s able to focus.

“Gee,” he whispers again, smiling a little despite himself. 

Which is weird because he can see his parents still slouched over in their seats.

“Mom and dad are fine. Just out cold for a bit,” Gerard tells him softly, very likely reading his mind. 

“I think it’s working.”  
“Me too,” Gerard admits, smiling a little as well but it falls shortly after. “I’m gonna have to take it out. You can’t heal with it still in.”

Mikey nods numbly, bracing himself as Gerard wraps his fingers around the hilt. He interlaces their fingers with his free hand and offers Mikey a weak smile.  
“Squeeze if you need to okay?”

He nods again, not trusting his voice. Gerard looks hesitantly back down at the knife embedded in Mikey’s side. They take a breath in unison before Gerard yanks the blade out in one fluid motion.

Mikey screams, white hot pain exploding through him. He must black out for a second because when he blinks again Gerad is already holding his hand over the nearly closed wound.

“Ow,” Mikey whispers weakly, earning an exasperated laugh from Gerard.

“No shit asshole.” 

He pauses, looking back down to where his hand covers what’s left of the hole. 

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” he asks, fighting to stay awake now.

“Hurting you. Letting him hurt you. All of it.”

“Pretty sure you just kicked his ass and saved all our asses,” Mikey teases back, though his voice is too quiet, even to himself.

He’s beginning to fade again, even the boost of his powers not strong enough to make him bounce back this quickly.  
“Hush,” Gerard tells him gently. “Save your strength until it’s fully healed.”

Mikey hums and rests his eyes while they wait. It doesn’t take much longer before he hears his parents begin to stir.

He tires to follow the conversation, to join in and tell them how fucking amazing Gerard was and that he literally just saved all of their lives. But the words get stuck. 

Mikey only realizes he’s fallen asleep again when a warm hand rests on his shoulder, bringing him back into reality.

“Hey, baby?” 

Recognizing his mother’s voice, Mikey pries open his eyes and smiles tiredly up at her.

“We’re gonna get you on the couch okay?”

He’s fairly certain he’s answers but he’s already falling asleep again as three pairs of hands lift him from the chair. 

But even with the unconscious hunter lying in their kitchen floor, Mikey feels safe.


	32. Anytime You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
*cursing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween Everyone!!  
Best day of the year, hands down. I've no actual plans other than to be my normal hermit self and eat my body weight in fun sized snickers while watching The Nightmare Before Christmas and Hocus Pocus on repeat. It's a good life.  
So yeah, with that brings my last chapter for you all. This one's short and sweet. I probably should'a had a big thing planned for today but I'm happy with how I"m ending this!  
I absolutely Have to thank @pauladiazcruz Immensely for everything she's done this month! She's amazing and I've said it before and I'll say it again, this wouldn't be half as intelligible or good without all of the time and energy she's poured into this! <3  
I hope you all enjoy and I wish you all a very spooky Halloween!!  
*shrinks into oblivion while Baby You're a Haunted House plays in the distance*
> 
> -Chapter title is from Summertime by My Chem. Which is probably ironic in some way but I don't care-

Frank’s had this day planned for ages.

He’s got a little piece of paper in his pocket that has everything he wants to say written on it. Gerard’s favorite meal sits ready on the stove.

They have decorations up everywhere. Tiny plastic pumpkins on the counters and cute ghost fridge magnets because they're adults and they can. Frank even put on the stupid Halloween ugly sweater that Gerard insisted he buy.

It’s actually pretty comfortable, the soft material acting as an insulator as well and keeping him warm. Frank hears the microwave beep and he smiles.

6pm on the dot.

Gerard should be home any minute and if they’re lucky the hot chocolate will still be warm by then. 

Doing one last look around, Frank makes sure the stove is on the lowest setting so the food doesn’t burn. He adjusts the pumpkin shaped salt and pepper shakers on their table and even combs his fingers through his hair to at least try and get it to lay right. Though that’s mostly a lost cause.

He’s still smiling, even through the nerves, as he anxiously straightens everything up. The room smells strongly of the homemade chili that Frank made. He’d begged his mother for the recipe because he knows how much Gerard loves it. Whenever they go to visit his mom she always seems to know ahead of time and have the things to make it. That or she keeps some in stock at all times.

Ten minutes pass and Frank finds himself plopping down in one of the kitchen chairs, if only so he doesn't burn a trail through the kitchen floor with his pacing. Gerard’s always home by now.

If he was running late at work… he’d call right?

Yeah, of course he would.

Frank distracts himself by turning the heat off completely on the stove and covering the pot of soup with a lid to keep it warm. The hot chocolate is probably gonna be gross if they wait any longer and Frank feels bad for letting it go to waste.

20 minutes pass and still nothing. 

Frank’s back to pacing again. 

Why would Gerard be so late? It’s not like the company he works for has had a lot of extra work right now. At least not for any reason Frank could think of. 

So why would Gerard be, he glances to his phone to check the time, almost 30 minutes late when today should be an easy day.

He’s been meaning to talk to Gerard about this for ages, since they fucking met basically. But Frank’s held back, waited until it was the perfect time.

Because this is a big deal and if Gerard takes it wrong…

No. Frank’s not going to think about that.

40 minutes.

The food’s probably cold by now and the hot chocolate he’s sipping on most definitely is. It’s gross and thick from sitting in the microwave too long but he drinks it anyway.

Maybe he should call Gerard, make sure everything is okay?

Yeah, actually that’s a good idea.  
Frank sets the mug down on the table and pulls his phone out of his pocket. His finger hovers over Gerard’s contact for a moment too long. 

He knows Gerard would never cheat on him but right now that’s all his mind is screaming. Why else would he stay so late out of the blue?

Had Frank been too engrossed in his planning that he’d ignored Gerard, hurt his feelings enough for him to resort to-

“Frankie, I'm home!”

Jerking his head up, Frank hears the front door close and the sound of Gerard’s bag hitting the floor. He stands instantly, leaving the mug forgotten on the table as he tries to keep from stomping while he enters the other room.

Frank already has a billion questions already on the tip of his tongue and he’s just deciding which one to throw out first. His hands shake and maybe he’s more worked up than he thought.

“You could have at least-,” he begins frustratedly as he turns the corner to the entranceway.  
The words fall short as he takes in the sight of his boyfriend.  
Gerard’s covered in snow and ice, shivering as he tries to pry off his jacket. He looks up at Frank, confused.

“H-hhuh?” he asks with a shiver, finally succeeding in removing his jacket.

He’s only wearing a t-shirt underneath and instantly Frank’s heart breaks. As his body finally catches up with his mind, Frank crosses the room and pulls Gerard close to his chest. He’s freezing and Frank can feel him shivering against him. 

“What happened?” Frank questions, rubbing his arms down the exposed part of Gerard’s arm to try and warm him up.

His lips are blue and Frank is about two seconds from scooping him up and mummifying him in every blanket they own.

“C-car broke down. And my p-phone is dead.”

“So you walked!” he exclaims, letting his eyes drift to the window to their right.  
He hadn't even noticed it’d been snowing. But sure enough there’s already a few inches on the ground, large snowflakes blowing in the wind.

“Thought that’d be better,” Gerard admits quietly.

“Here.”

Frank leads him to the couch and has him sit while he searches for a blanket. When he passes the thermostat in the hallway, he cranks it up to 75 and hurries back down the hall. 

Gerard takes the blankets with a soft smile, wrapping them around his shoulders and sighing. 

“Why were you so worried?” Gerard says sometime later. “You didn’t know I was walking?"

“No… no I didn’t even know it was snowing.”

Gerard’s face scrunches a bit at that but he seems to only just notice Frank’s ugly Halloween sweater.

“Shit,” Gerard says under his breath. “We were gonna have a date tonight.”

Something close to guilt crosses Gerard’s features as his face falls. 

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault-”

“Yeah but I should’a called!” Gerard argues desperately, dropping his head down in his hands.

Instantly Frank feels horrible.  
He had been mad at Gerard. Hell, Frank had assumed he was fucking cheating but in reality he’d been walking home in the fucking snow. And now Gerard is blaming himself and… and Frank is probably the worst boyfriend ever.

“Gee,” he tries gently. He’s rewarded with Gerard’s beautiful hazel eyes brimming with sadness as they glance to him through his hair.

“Sometimes shit happens that’s out of your control.”

Gerard nods quietly but he pushes his hair back out of his eyes. Standing up and letting the blankets fall off his shoulders, he smiles down to Frank.

“whatever you cooked smells amazing Frankie. How about a late dinner?”

Unable to hide the smile and relief on his face, Frank lets Gerard pull him up and they go into the kitchen together. The moment he sees the display, Gerard’s hands go to his mouth in a quiet gasp.

“Frankie… you did this?” he asks in awe, like Frank had invited David Bowie for dinner rather than simply cooked for him.

“Yeah. I uh- wanted to make it special.”

Gerard lights up, his smile so soft and sweet that it melts Frank’s heart. The way his eyes are so bright right now, the colors pulling him under. It’s that glimpse of tiny teeth as Gerard wraps him in a hug, his arms flung over Frank’s shoulders. They stay like that for a long moment before Gerard lifts his head and stares into his eyes. The world is paused, silent and waiting.

He knows Gerard’s about to say something, can see the words and how his mind is racing. Can feel it in the way he’s leaning against Frank like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. As if his entire world revolves around this moment. 

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Gerard says at last, his voice nothing but a whisper. 

“It’s okay. I worry too much anyway.”

Gerard sighs, something in his eyes telling Frank that he knows which conclusions he was jumping to. If it were anyone else, they would be mad. Frank knows they would be.

Because he does trust Gerard. God, he trusts him more than anyone else. He could ask Frank to lie still and let him paint him in fucking real silver and he’d let him. In a heartbeat.

Even though it’d probably kill him.

He trusts him completely but he can’t help where his mind goes when things happen. His first instinct is that he’s been abandoned or purposefully forgotten. It’s just where his mind goes. And it’s horrible but he’s been correct before.  
Not about Gerard though. Never about him.

“Baby,” Gerard says gently, cupping the side of his face with the palm of his hand. 

Frank looks into his eyes, stares into the swirling greens and browns and tries to drown in them. 

“I love you more than anything.”

He’s dizzy now, drunk on the weight of Gerard in his arms and the feel of his breath against his lips. They’re impossibly close and Frank knows he’d only have to move the slightest amount and he’d be kissing him.

“Frankie,” Gerard presses, nothing but kindness and love shining in his eyes. “I love you. And you can’t beat yourself up for worrying.”

Guilty now as he realizes Gerard did know exactly what he was thinking. Again.

Frank shakes himself out of his own mind so that he can answer him.

“I love you too,” he whispers, putting everything he has into the words, every ounce of sincerity so that Gerard knows that he does trust him. “I’m sorry.”  
“No apology needed. Now, I say we heat up whatever amazing thing you cooked and have our date. Whatd’ya say?”

______________________________________________________

Dinner is perfect. 

More than perfect really.

He and Gerard sit as close as they can and time seems to wane and stop around them. There’s no work tomorrow, no dishes to be done. It’s just them. 

The lights they’ve hung up around the windows paint the kitchen in a soft purple glow as the night grows on, and they turn off the lights in favor of curling up on the couch together. They don’t even put a movie on, content with the slow, lazy flow of their conversation. Frank still has the paper in his pocket, unused and calling to him.

He watches Gerard for a long moment, getting lost once again in the shape of his face, in the curve of his nose and the line of his lips. On instinct he leans forward and kisses him, pleased that he doesn’t have to move very far to do so.

Gerard giggles but kisses back happily, wrapping his arms around Frank’s neck and pulling him down. 

“You’re beautiful,” Frank whispers into the warm skin of his neck, feeling the way Gerard squirms as he kisses him there.

When he pulls back up, Gerard is blushing, his skin tinted a lovely shade of pink. Frank feels proud. So he says it again, punctuating it with a kiss to his jaw.  
“You’re horrible,” Gerard retorts with no real bite. 

“Mmh but you love me.”

He latches on to a point on Gerard’s neck, greedily taking in every little gasp and hitch of his breath. Shifting, Frank swings his legs over Gerard’s waist to straddle him, earning him a very pleasing gasp.

But the paper crinkles when Frank moves to go back to his task. Reminding him that there was something important he was going to do today.

Reluctantly, Frank sits up, resting all his weight on his legs so he doesn’t crush his boyfriend. Gerard’s eyes are closed, a blissed out smile on his face.

After a moment though, when Frank doesn’t move again, Gerard’s eyelashes flutter and he looks up in confusion.  
“I need to tell you something,” Frank blurts, earning an odd look from Gerard.

“You do all of that and now you wanna talk?”

“Yeah.”

Gerard rolls his eyes fondly but he moves enough for Frank to lie down beside him rather than on top of him. He interlaces their fingers and uses his other hand to pull the paper from his pocket.

“What’s that?” Gerard asks curiously, sitting up on his elbow to watch Frank unfold it.

“Uh… my cheat sheet?”  
“We’re having a test?” Gerard teases with a smirk, earning a playful bat on his arm from Frank.

“No. It’s so I don’t mess up or… or forget something.”

Probably noticing the seriousness of what Frank needs to tell him, Gerard offers him a smile and motions for him to begin. Taking a deep breath, Frank skims his eyes over the paper in his hands.  
It feels dumb now that he’s holding it. This is about him, he shouldn’t need a piece of paper to help.

“So um… you know how like I- I always have that family thing I gotta go to once a month?”

Gerard nods slowly. 

“Well I uh… I never told you what it’s for. I’m- fuck I’m just gonna come right out and say it because I don’t know how else to do it and-”  
“Frankie, look at me.”

He looks slowly up at Gerard. There’s that smile again, bright and understanding as he takes Frank’s hands.

“What do you need to tell me.”

“I’m a werewolf.”

He snaps his hands up to his mouth, surprised by how fast the words had escaped him. Panicking now, Frank waits for Gerard to freak out. He waits for the laugh, for the disbelief. For the anger.

Gerard’s fingers lift his chin and their eyes meet. There’s no disbelief, no judgement. 

“Would you hate me if I said I already knew?”

Frank’s jaw drops and all he can do is sputter and shake his head as Gerard giggles sweetly.

"Wh-what? How? I thought- how?”

“You’re not very subtle and you always bring out dog toys around the full moon. So I figured you’re more kinky than I thought or you’re a werewolf. So, naturally, I asked your mom.”  
“You did what?” 

“Calm down. I didn’t mention the kinky part. And after she realized I was serious she sat me down and explained it all to me. A lot of things make sense now if I’m honest.”

“Really?” Frank finds himself asking curiously, the fear slowly melting off of him.

“Yeah. I mean you’re like a puppy most of the time. Full of energy and needing constant affection. “ he kisses the bridge of Frank’s nose, making his face heat up and a dumb smile to inch its way on his lips. “And towards the full moon you get really over protective, sometimes jealous. You clean and cook and basically fucking nest until you can get away to your parents’.”

Oh. 

Was he that obvious? Predictable?  
If he’s that bad then… then Gerard’s probably already sick of it and-

“Hey,” Gerard says a bit forcefully. “Don’t you dare feel bad about any of that.”  
“But-”  
“No buts. You can’t help it and… and it’s actually really cute. It's one of the reasons why I fell in love with you”

Frank very carefully does not cry. If he wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his stupid sweater then that’s nobody's business but his. 

“I’m so glad you told me though. It means a lot that you’d trust me like that to share something so important,” Gerard continues as Frank lays his head on his chest. 

His fingers find Frank’s hair and begin gently combing through it while he tries to work up what to say.

“I love you.”

Gerard giggles again and leans to kiss his forehead, making Frank squirm and burrow further against him. 

“I love you too Frankie,” he wraps his arms around Frank a little better and all devious thoughts of getting Gerard upstairs are gone completely as he finds himself drifting off. “Happy birthday baby.”  
Frank freezes. 

“Holy shit. Frankie you didn’t fucking forget your own birthday did you?”  
“I-I was distracted and no of course I didn't forget I-” Frank pauses, accepting his fate. “I forgot.”  
“Jesus you’re a mess,” Gerard teases fondly as he laughs at Frank’s pout.

“You’re mean.”

But they’re both still laughing as Gerard leans in to give him a birthday kiss since “the others don’t count ‘cause you didn’t know!”  
He gets the feeling that he probably should have told Gerard everything a little sooner.  
“Happy Halloween Frankie,” Gerard whispers in his ear as they both begin to doze off.

“Happy Halloween. I love you.”


End file.
